-
You recount in detail the three old ladies
outside of the diner,
how you listened in as they Â
described the sky to one another.
One traced the swirls of the clouds
with trembling hands;
you thought it so beautiful,
you could have cried.
-
The record player is spinning the blues
through a gravelly veil.
I anticipate the moment
you lift your hand to your heart,
and exclaim:
"I love this next line!"
-
Sadness creeps in late through
your living room window
like the moon diving
into the ocean;
a wave of grief consumes you,
violent and unforgiving,
as you pour us another glass of
cheap white wine.
-
I feel like a thief in the night
when I think about you
on the train ride home,
as city blocks turn to fields,
and back to blocks again.
There is something blasphemous
about seeing you so clear.