68. just tears.
after I leave him, in the late afternoon,
I drive down to the ocean & watch the sunset
over our future one last time,
before I leap
into another future.
if he’d have said I love you
when it mattered most
well, maybe I’d be home right now,
but here I sit, waiting for a sign
left or right, north or south, go or stay.
It’s like a game of chess, this thing called love:
where do you step? when can you run?
whose imprint is hidden here?
relax and it dies.
– when your voice gently whispers in my ear
“so, what do you think,
will those be happy tears or sad tears?”
– ask me tomorrow, I say,
but tonight just take me home
and say something nice.