An Old Flame

The antennae feel the antennae,

says Rilke.
In these latter days,

I remember the times we 
met at Sencha 
Tea Bar. My antennae felt your antennae

plenty—the attraction was tremendous.
It still tickles
my psyche in these latter days—

ever more amazed
how eagerly I await
new signals from your antennae

to mine. Each day I say
my prayers, do my calisthenics,
and thank fate for lucky days

you help me get down and sashay
around the town,
feeling our pedial antennae,
in these latter days.