Sparks don't necessarily
lead to love just because
they ignite a fire,
sometimes all that burns
is the neighborhood...

He loved to teach...

He loved to teach her...

He loved to teach her abject lessons
      in elevators and on stairwells.


She hated to learn...

She hated to learn from him...

She hated to learn from him the inherent
       danger of buildings.

Just another pit stop
not your destination
you weren't here for long
but you made it seem that way

Just another pit stop
not your destination
you took what you needed
then left without looking back

I was just a pit stop
not your destination
took advantage
leaving your mark

Back then they were no
angels

just Rorshach blots
in the snow

wingless
sometimes headless

never more than just an abstract
musing

coming going
in cold

sunlight
with a stiff wind

Whit Howland © 2020