I paint you black
I paint over you with
a smear of the brush
...
our love played out
like a cheap romance novel
each end battered, torn
fantastic love making once or twice
...
twenty-three years ago,
the mall stood there,
the stores half empty,
an earlier recession,
...
When I see myself through your eyes
I see nothing in myself worthy of redemption
Nothing to save, nothing to be delivered.
...
we don't ask
for those guarantees
of anything but love.
...
I will miss the voices
of the wind in trees
on sunshine summer days
...
when the bright sunshine competed
with her smile
and lost
...