I got bigger and warmer after meeting you
when you were a new man and I was just an older kid
playing around in your country,
fleeing the competition, the grief,
the forced smiles,
the unalloyed power of Home.
I met that bear you had upstairs
I saw your books and the half-painted train car outside
I recognized the love-filled grit of a hand-built home,
whose tender-hearted patriarch had died from languish
just like mine.
So, drunk and tired,
I fell on you like a child and cried,
crumpled American daughter
tall Russian boy.
What would come of us joining together that night
already recorded somewhere out
in the dark of Time.