“I went down to the river,
I set down on the bank.
I tried to think but couldn't,
So I jumped in and sank.”
― Langston Hughes*



We've all seen you lament, at some point.
The last was with your revised Florida Orange Juice, tiring
your right hand, knocking the empty bottle against each joint.
Muddled in slow jams the knees in your strict jeans leaned  into the motion,
helplessly receding feebly proceeding possibly misleading-
drip drip dripping through the deck you drowned, and I was left to sway in your arid ocean.
There are pieces of camera equipment buried into overflowing sock drawers,
to remind the lovers that your still here, and the others that you don't care
They were sold to the men on Main- doesn't matter if they are yours
I promised to keep your head above water-corrected each struggle, each flail
soaked whispered confessions, panicked treading legs, desperate flooded eyes
I watched you wade into the water, and I knew I would fail