Page 202 - In Five Years

It is behind the mountains,
Past even the hills—

Those of luscious green that
Roll up into the heavens.

I have been there, with you.

It is not big, although not too small.

Perhaps you could perch a house on its width,
But we have never considered it.

What would be the use?

We already live there.

When the night closes
And the city stills,

I am there, with you.

Our mouths laughing, our heads vacant

Of all but what is.

And what is? I ask.

This, you say. You and I, here.

We are all silent after she finishes. I know what place. It is a field, surrounded

by mountains and fog, where a river runs through. It is quiet and peaceful and
eternal. It is that apartment.
I pull my coat tighter around me. It’s cold, but the cold feels good. It reminds

me for the first time in a week that I am here, that I have flesh, that I am real.
Berg steps forward next. He reads from Chaucer, a favorite stanza of hers from
graduate school. He puts on a voice. Everyone laughs.

There is champagne and her favorite cookies, from Birdbath on Seventh.
There is also pizza from Rubirosa, but no one has touched it. We need her to