I miss you
I'll miss it here
I think of you
this time of year,
when summer's
contemplating an early fall
I miss you
and I'll miss the hills
I'll miss thinking of your visit
the times we had when you
were here
when spring was contemplating a summer drawl
I miss you
(I'll even miss the rain)
I'll miss the ocean
mountains
coffee
and seeing you again
Where is your wisdom?
It is locked in the temple...
The altar is my memory
but what will be my rituals?
Light a candle to it and
guard it like a Vestal
with the chastity of love
and the abstinence of grief
It hit me again today
from out of nowhere...
Flopping against my brain
like the landing of an albatross,
And you're gone...
And I'm skidding in the sand...
albatross out of the water
Barely fit to stand
with my legs kicked out from
under me
and undertow...
It hit me late this morning
from out of nowhere
slapping against my forehead like the
bus upon the pavement
and you're gone...
And I'm skidding down the street
out of control
with my brakes gone out from
under me
and overpass...
I hit it again today,
my little brick wall,
banging against the memory that you're
not within a phonecall,
That you're gone...
You'll have to peel me off the brick wall
or leave me stuck for good
with my soul smacked like a pancake
on cement
and on the griddle...
She keeps a can of buttons beneath her bed --
She never knew when she might need them
The can was a treasure to me
I would sneak into her bedroom early in the morning
sometimes late at night and I would smuggle
the can into my bedroom
(I am descended of pirates -- a buccaneer of boutonnieres)
I would dump them all out
hundreds of them
sink my hands in them
like they were gold coins and bouillons,
the mix-matched, rough-sided and smooth-edged
currency of lost sweaters, shirts, trousers and button-eyed dolls.
I would count them
match them
color code them
And scoop them into my hands
They clattered in the can
as they dropped in.
There was no better sound.