in this town, they say,
love is just
a
heartbeat
away

yet
for many
good men
the pain of
abandonment
is the
same
heartbeat
away

in this town
the sun falls
and
the moon rises
where
for many
good men
tombstones
mark the graves
of
hope
happiness
and desire -
of which
all
died
of
a
premature
death

the rain has stopped,
but the thunder cracks
and rumbles
and the sky is as
grey and cloudy
as my tired eyes

many days
I think of my
next poem
or my next
brand of cigars
or my next
bottle of wine

but today
I think of you,
my beautiful

I think of
your hair,
eyes,
nose,
mouth,
lips,
smile,
voice,
laugh,
skin,
body,
h­eart,
and soul

I think of you,
my beautiful

I think of us
on a spontaneous trip,
driving in the car
with the windows down,
your hair blowing in
the wind,
singing songs on
the radio
without knowing
all of the lyrics,
laughing as we
make up words
or hum
the melody

I think of nights
on the couch
in front of the fire,
drinking wine,
listening to music,
and reading poetry

I think of mornings
waking up
next to you
with the sun
beaming through the
bedroom window and
onto you like a goddess

as time goes on,
memories will fade,
just as you did,
when you took
your last breath

sitting on a blanket
near the pond
watching the ducks
nibble on
trails of food
left by other
park-goers

my eyes
land on
a young woman
demolished by
the wrecking ball
of life

I am
no longer
interested in
the ducks

I look at
the young
woman

I look at
her hair
as that
tender park
breeze passes
through it

I look at
her eyes

I look at
her face

I look
through
her sadness

I close
my eyes

I imagine
the sound
of
her heartbeat

I smile

I look
at her
again

there are
many things
filled with
tremendous
beauty

and she
is too