Fall #20

there is a haunting sense of loneliness in the fall
with your red velvet record spinning and your anticipation
of a boy

disappointment shortly following,
lingering like the burgundy leaves
leading to your door where he stood
once or twice

the last of the sparrows sing as you
scavenge for feeling in your hollow heart
as he leaves, silently with
no warning

quiet, like his voice
that proves to echo against the brick of your apartment
that is heard every time a soft song plays
that won’t quit ringing like a fire drill in the back
of your poor, pathetic, diseased mind

with such gentleness, he approaches you
and retreats
back to familiarity of another dream girl
that his hands can touch because you
are more cowardice than cool

swiftly exiting, you can’t place blame
on an innocent want to fill
the black hole that is a heart

you and he
are the same birds on a telephone wire
trying to sing, contemplating
flight

sad, small claws, clenching a string
meant to communicate
and here you are, frozen
with the silence expanding
as he prepares for movement
you watch, stare, long

wish the wings you glued yourself would take you where he goes