That’s what the leaves are
All upset about tonight.
My hunch is, you prefer to remain forever
Unthinkable and unsayable,
Merely delectable, so that I may continue
To sate myself on your sweet appearances,
Your luscious, flower-strewn meadows,
Your vast banquets of evening stars.
Wintry light,
My memories are
Steep stairwells
In dusty buildings
On dead-end streets.
Windows spattered with drops of rain
Which take turns listening
To each other fall intermittently
As they go around collecting memories
That do not belong to them.
More silence smudging like ink.
Two tumbleweeds on a pillow, we raced for cover.
Waiting for the sunrise, the pink birthday cake.
Oh to press the chimney to my heart on a windy day!
Little rain, keep falling softly.
With tiny love bites she ate my heart.
There are a million zeros crowding for warmth
Inside my head and making it so heavy
Do you hear them adding and subtracting in the dark.
In the sky a flock of white shirts
Are flying to a laundry line in Africa.
I was feeling my way uncertainly
Toward the exit in the evening darkness.
Drive up on my motorbike
To see the windows of your room
Small rocks, would scratch,
And I’d wait until you came down
To drive to the ocean.
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