A few hours of awe

[Achebe]

This is a nice, atmospheric poem that is spoiled by needless vagueness

My fingers touch
the golden chain around your neck.
Your hair is a mess on Sunday. ...At this stage I am getting the foreboding that the rest of the poem is going to be a bunch of disjointed thoughts
I hear words:
“hold - don’t hold”. 
Strangers walk outside the window. ...The last 3 lines have been cryptic statements. I don't know what you're getting at, but I'm holding out for S2

Let me tell you something.
I knew you at the synagogue.
I had the last strawberry pastry. ...unless strawberry pastries have some Jewish cultural significance, this line appears to be unrelated to the above.
I stole the lemon tinge ...did you have a lemon meringue or a strawberry pastry?
beneath your tongue.
My hands were scrolls
in an ancient language, ...beautiful
ruins of a city
built by the people of God. ...beautiful by itself, but unconnected to the metaphor above. 

The last bus came late. ...aaand you've gladly abandoned all that you said before
We were set on a cab. ...why did you wait for the bus to come? Did you mean the last bus WAS late?
The street smelled of money - 
Versace, a word from your other life.
Your car was warm ...weren't you in a cab?
and I let you talk past Kennedy
to buy 15 minutes along the shore.
Do you remember the skyline?
The city was naked like a mistress. ...nice, but the only reason the simile should be there at all is if this woman is also your mistress, otherwise is't just a random simile. But I don't get that assurance from the rest of your poem.
Planes fly there once a year
and rattle the glass. ...clever play on 'once a year', evoking 9/1.. nice

I used to chain-smoke
on the cruise ship
that circles the islands. ...this is pure prose masquerading as poetry.
Coffee reminds me of those nights. 
I remember your skirt
and your tongue and
your pink top and your eyes
gazing at list after list. 
You are seen by the world.
I learned something 
from the old professor at the cafe. ...which cafe? one on the cruise ship? or have you jumped ship again
“Listen,” he said,
“you are rich in a way
science can't understand. 
Your heart is made of flesh,
it holds the sorrow
of your generation.” ... It might have been convincing if the rest of the poem was based on the theme of the voiced sentiment, rather than meandering stream of consciousness mutterings. the literal meaning of these lines are zero. Your heart is made of flesh....duh. Then the comma, implying that BECAUSE it is made of flesh it holds the sorrow, etc. Sorry, the sentence structure hasn't been thought through, just like the rest of the poem, and the old professor is mouthing pretentious bombast. And not in an ironic way. This for me is the nail in the coffin of this poem's credibility.