-
You recount in detail the three old ladies
outside of the diner,
how you listened in as they
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.