farewell

sixteen years
feel like yesterday.
ingratitude digs its heels deeper
as you walk to the receiver’s end
where old and new tastes
come together inorganically.

An orange ice candy
from days of yore melts
and drips down your hand,
onto your shirt
(of course it had to be white)
you should run to wash it,
you should.but you will not.
now the stain will stay
like certain other things in life
you should have scrubbed.rinsed.
been more careful about.

A playlist of songs jams
in your ears
traceable through years
and people (who may or
may not themselves be)

Neruda was a late discovery
but so apt at this moment.
(Borges though remains
the flavor of the week)

a strange neon memory
of pizzas, laughter and
awkward silences rushes in,
cold-shoulders you, dashes out,
and leaves you to wonder -
was it really from the library of
your own mind, rich in its
devastation?

The past crackles and wheezes,
fitfully overflows
with real and imagined slights
with sleights of hand
and heart
reaching out. delving in.
slipping through
the cracks that hold you together.
and letting go seems to be
the only way of holding on.

evenings like these are perfect
for ill timed but necessary goodbyes.