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.