Choked today on blank Tudor boldness as broken neighbours
sucked through the seams of the shit they build with
ostentatious walls.
Smoked today, fifth time since 1988, with kids I knew
through springs, then again in falls, but they're not
kids at all.
And then it came-our world in my chest-set up by your
silent residue in my room, then in my car.
But for today, too late. Some business I guessed.
No cancellation, as if I knew how busy you are.
To know a love like subtle brios, eclipsed crescendos,
some swallowed whole.
Like things I have to look at: red hair and Rothkos, as
if the angels just have to show.
In fairness to you I must revise this romance to rust,
trade in this stash for cash, trade in these goods for
ash.
In fairness to you I will stare the paint right off this
sill, beat down the floor with my feet 'till you and I
have time to be still.
