A slotted afternoon, again
as I walk
through rain
downtown to the place where I once kissed
her eyelids, as she brushed my chin.
Down, to where people run, uncaring
without a thought of things that breathe,
things like love, and misery,
trees, and children,
all laughing at their play.
And I walk through the cut-out spot
into the office, where I’ll lose myself
in work and work and work and shame,
much like the papers
stacked in their hungry waiting
for me to take the pen
and write out a live’s story
that I’ve never really known.
Then, nine and three-quarter hours later
back out through the hole
into more gray and slanting rain,
then home, back to where she once was
and I once loved
to be.
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