I forgot
what I was saying  
when you asked
me where we go
from here
as the train felt
suddenly open
like the field
the last Buffalo
must have knelt
in and  
you tried to
reach me in the
backyard where
the guitar
collects cobwebs
then where you
learned to play
squash in your
summer dress
but by then my
train of thought had
passed the station,

leaving you pinning
that same piece of
cloth against your knees.