you left
in a hurry today
the shirt you wore to bed
the night before lay
crumpled on the floor
holding your warmth
long after you had gone

accross the street
a train rumbles
much too late at night
and gives me strange dreams

another day
without you
the tepid summer wind
drifts in through my open window
and blows your memory onto the floor

the night here is quiet
save for my feet shuffling
collecting water like dust
love yields in a strange way
i note this as i walk
through wet grass
thinking of you with a mild ache

do you remember
that couch you used to have?
sturdy, it was
worn colorless and
frayed just around the edges
your hand i remember
hooked around its arm
idly playing with the soft,
loose threads as we talked oblivious,
the night pressing its
blank face against the window.

your watch sits on the dresser
soft ticking, the dark
collects like rags in the corners
eaten away by the early morning
there are so many
things that are too easy to say
count them on the ceiling
thin and magazine innocent
and i know what you'd say
to my cold fingers reaching
towards the tiny folds

chunks of ***** snow
lie on the side of the road
like roadkill
there are no more
geese in the duck pond
the water lies still
foggy mirror
reflecting the trees
in dull regard