Every time I say goodbye
I don't mean it much.
I will be bookends and you
will be a hat rack and people
will use our memories to sell
cars. There will be suits
hand-woven from our handshakes
and I won't cry even a little at
the soundtrack by the fountain
when your lips get fuller and your
eyes take on planets.

I will just say the words and
remember that when they
refashion me for proper use
you will be holding a businessman's hat.