I ramble through my old town, missing you,
even though these were never streets we knew  

together. I pick up things. Then, I buy them. Now,
everything’s spread on the bed at the home  

where I’m staying. & it’s all purple. It’s all you. Every
last bit of it & I don’t know what to do. My hands  

stained just another envy I still own. I pick up
three postcards, the photographer an old friend.  

Her expert eye fades through fields of overshot
chrysanthemums. On another, a bulb show, various  

stages of collapsed anemones. What’s not purple
is yellow—day lilies, mums’ stubborn centers,  

& a sweet double tulip. It, then, double exposed.
Beyond this, a book from the bargain bin—  

a resource on plants from Maryland to Maine.
On the cover, two tentative crocuses striate purple  

& white. Their yolk-yellow stamens break open
as they bloom. Then, the crocus takes a turn  

to double on a vintage handkerchief. Embroidered
two-toned petals with a matching scalloped edge,  

one pass of perfect mid-purple thread. I’m drenched
in you. I try to cleanse my palette with a slim  

book of poems. Local poet, a dollar to read her
two-decade-removed authority on heartbreak—  

the divorce & I don’t know what else. On the bed,
I absent-mindedly flip through muted pages flicked  

with words I don’t read until bright purple endsheets
appear unexpectedly like sudden, saturated grief.

the neighbors finally knocked

I smile into the camera and
attempt to make eye contact
during Zoom meetings,
even though I’m not sure
it’s possible, and
I tell corny childhood stories
revealing too much information
about myself.

Sometimes, I laugh or cry or
get too invested in feelings
because empathy isn’t something
I know how to turn off,
so I show up with books and
jars of homemade jam and
odd little treasures to make
someone else smile.

I send messages and memes and
heart all the posts celebrating
delights and joys because
we all need more of those, and
even though sometimes texts
get buried, I eventually uncover
them and respond thanking you
for your patience.

I could never run for office.
I’m not good at hiding my face,
so it’s always easy to see
my thoughts during conversations,
and I can’t disguise a reaction
no matter how hard I try.

But that’s okay.
I wouldn’t want to anyway.

Tonight’s
light lingers late
as summer heat takes hold.
Fireflies remind me of my lost
best friend. 

we throw darts in the brewery
seeking specific numbers
it’s a game, of course
just as we play in life
trying to make our points
stick
and count for
something

Where have you gone, sweet timothy
that used to lay itself low on the old roadside?
And where did you take
the black-eyed susans and their pretty dresses?

The old blue car would have been covered up
by the length of you both along those hedgerows. 
We passed by by your eyes many times–
sweet and unseeing what was to come. 

We just took the old blue car to the old smoke town,
ground ourselves against each other,
blunt little knives–the dull kin
of threshing men.

He still calls your name, sweet timothy, 
black-eyed susan on the old roadside.
Out by the road now, new growth spreads
and someone else calls their name now:
fescue and wild onion, buttercup and thyme.

O my love, you were sincere.
O my love, I was smitten.
And somehow we were gone
And somehow we were gone.
Defined by those things
we never meant to say
Before they were said.

I learned about love, sex, and relationships from boys who learned from boys who learned from boys who learned from boys who learned from boys who learned from boys who learned from boys who learned from boys who learned from boys who learned from boys…

Infinity

I know you are but what I am?

Who learned from boys who learned from boys who learned from boys who learned from boys who learned from boys…

It’s the dream of every ellipis to one day have something to say. 

listen with focus
try to keep your voice silent
comments interfere

KW
6/20/24

Screech, my love. Absolutely howl. Wake the dead with your hurrays, laugh until the sun sets. Let other’s fret over quiet, while we live in the noise.