if i do see you tomorrow,
let me down the rest of the way gently.
i'll be tame enough to ask
if you'll be considerate.
if it's the last time,
don't jump, don't rush to fill it with
your stale expectations.
they never were more about me
than the gleam in your eye,
since faded, anyhow
if it helps,
be the bag of bones,
bearded stranger in the baseball cap.
i'll keep searching for your face,
gaze i've known better than to crave.
i've allowed myself to smile now, anyway
overgrown for you by my design,
birthday cards in wastebasket,
perfume poured down kitchen drain,
face scrubbed, hair cropped,
smiling means you look away.
you must have
somewhere secure, someone my age,
a life to manicure.
gently, you may ask again why i called,
and in turn, i won't explain
picket fences are best used for dragging sticks.