I meant to see you one more time
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in that white dress splashed with brine
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from the northern coast
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where we learned our lessons the first time.
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A line assigned to paper,
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maybe lines under the eyes.
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We meant to write each other,
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but it never quite worked out right.
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Your eyes were light when there was no light.
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The cans are scuttling;
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the end of summer brings an allergy to common things.
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And you could be on an eastbound train in half a day
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but I wouldn't meet you
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except on paper and maybe film.
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This is not sentiment.
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I will not settle this.
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This is not pining, Esther, this is crime!
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There are clouds coming in with the tide
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and I don't blame you but I can't see why
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you'd leave me here in this beautiful place,
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waiting for beauty.
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-----------------
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Instead Of Beauty, Branding
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| After The Sirens |
