some rare bird,

(his image by fortune

inscribed on your shoulders)

passed by my window this sunny October.

 

for a moment, I considered-

that this bird had flown from your neck

of the woods to my

neighborhood, only to find a

sea of laughter without end

but tainted by a single lie-

 

How could I tell you the truth?

I can’t even face it myself.

 

the dogs curled up on your bed,

the cat in the moonlight alone-

 

 

tonight’s moon, by the way, is

perfect as denial, a round

window into flawless Light-

 

nesting rodents, sleeping frogs-

the hawks leaving their nest,

and I

 

third-quarter now, time flies

and unable to voice it

to stain these images with

pleasantries when pleasure persists

nascent regret and old-timer’s nostalgia

in the mirror it’s your face-

 

and the mutinous distance,

the distance of our lives,

I wanted to go, but why

did you change me and leave?

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