i sit by the window watching the sun
go down into the horizon, tasting his tongue
on my breath, sweet and sickening like
fruit pastilles or a persimmon, homelike

it reminds me of my future with him
it reminds me of my past without him
all those years wasted not knowing
my love would meet me in that

dead end old school, where hate is bred
and stupidity is taught in what students read
they don’t know anything about life
about love, religion, repentance, longing

for his eyes, his speckled face glistening
in the late-afternoon sunlight listening
to my ramblings about this or that
sometimes his finger pit-pats

on the desk where i first found myself
a sea of endless pain and anguish rescued
by my foolish love, another pointless beckoning
quenched by lack of reckoning

i sit by my window
waiting for him