early december in my mind’s eye
i am reading cohen again
i shave my head - i wear Your clothes
i sleep in the garage
there are no windows

the roof leaks quick trails of water
even when i hear no rain
i go barefoot most days
there is no one left to impress with courtesy

i won’t make Your bed
i left Your trash on the floor
and the pills in Your dresser
i don’t want to see how it looks
when You don’t live here

i eat once a day
if the mood hits me right
and if it gets quiet
i restring Your guitar

i went to see You last week
i had nothing to say
because You are not this headstone
what do i say to a rock
You still make me feel stupid

it never gets this cold in june
i fall asleep in the snow