I have been waiting what seems a lifetime,        

                Watching to see if you could trust me.

There is something rather odd, touching in your

                Smile. I’d call it a knowing grin,

                If only I knew.

I’ve looked in five languages, not including

                My own, for words – rather, a phrase –

                To say what I’m almost feeling.

It’s just one of those things: if you don’t

                Already know, you never will, even with

                My help.

On the other foot: if you know from before,

                You won’t need me to tell you, and you

                Wouldn’t want me to try.

Obviously, the only reason I sleep well at night

                Is because I know that you know already

                What I don’t know how to say.

I’ve attempted to explain to you many times before,

                Moments when you were younger,

                Living in other places, in other homes.

I have been a prodigal member of all your families.

                Both of us know we’ve been awaiting my return.

Before you were born, I was there.

                Even though you are sometimes younger than I am,

                You saw my birth as well.

I tell you this now because the knowledge comes

                Through you. When you knelt and crawled away,

                You reminded me of something I never knew before.

(Manifestos of Neosurrealism, 1989)