Day 313: Corners of Windows

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i saw her face
peering from the bottom corner of a window
as if to say,

“i want to see
but am frightened by its knowing.”

and i tried not to linger my eyes
too long
on her small frame –
tucked down into the corner of a large one –
as i drove away.

 

the world needs surgeons
and scientists,
builders and buyers,
counters and curators of cash,

and i, of course, thought it best
to contribute.

for some sort of feeling of success.

 

the price of love,
after all,
is too costly
in a world of values to be exchanged,

and the yield cannot be quantified.

 

so i sold the house
with her still inside
and i moved to the city to win.

i won smiles and papers and amusements of cheese,
little applauses and louder high-fives
and an audience of ne’er-do-wrongs.

contracts and deeds and leases and loans,
and a french press to get through the day.

hobbies in vogue and political standing
that ensure i’ll have something to say
should the conversation dull
to a pensive lull
and left behind mem’ry
litters in the air –
still there –
uncomfortably noticed
as a facial bruise.

 

so i cling to devices that talk back in my voice
and say “look how busy you are.”
and busy’s a good indication of value…
go on so you can go far.

far

far back

far forward

far down the road
that always leads

always

to disheveled and sweet
and curious brows
that peek from the corners of windows.

∴

 

 

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