Somewhere in Philadelphiathere are scratched your initials
on a street corner
(though it’s really in the middle
of the sidewalk
where I etched them).

It was years and years ago
when we were young
and I was full of vigor
and vinegar
and vibrantly wanted to provide testimony
of my devotion to you.

I could have sent you flowers
or offered you chocolates
or perhaps simply spoken kindly to you
but streetside vandalism was my preferred form
of flattery
at the time.

I cannot tell you where it is.
I was only visiting the city
and had to move fast
before any watchful eye saw me disturb the sidewalk
with your name.

Your initials might not even be there anymore.
It was a while ago
and the street might have since been paved again.
I wish I could check for sure
just as I wish I could know
that you are well
out there
somewhere in the world.