a love poem

I wanted to write you a love poem

            But I spend too much time surviving. Surviving isn’t living she said.

And I wanted to tell you about the softness of her round face, pressed against the glass looking at nothing at something making sounds like coo and goo and ah and oh. And how I couldn’t quite make out her mouth through the silk and chiffon.

 (she could have been our baby oh)

I wanted to drive a hundred miles to see you read this love poem

But instead I was old, a visitor in my life

And I saw you with your wife, and your son and daughter and you were all in a fucking prius.

I was there, behind the cold metal bench pressed hard against my loss with a grin wide and leering at the l o v e.