|View single post by timmy|
|Posted: Wed Sep 19th, 2007 02:34 am||
|the geese are in the empty fairground field.
contemplating the tether of their instinct.
the wind has died. even the leaves
seem to know when to drop to a cold ground.
without you this evening, the drapes
sweep the floor through the south
open window. i step the floor
back and forth. wondering.
it is true when you are late, i worry:
you have stalled in traffic. you
have found someone else
to laugh with this evening.
it is true, i ask your forgiveness.
that you cannot cancel and enter
on behalf of this solitary evening.
life would be so simple
if we both had the instinct
of the geese gathered
in the empty fairground field.
maybe then, and only then,
would worry seem so unnatural.