One more friday night, watched
slowly inside-out, a child smiles
a slow draw-back of gin
a sigh of cigarette smoke,
a pound of ash on the counter:
one more hello or goodbye will break this place.
Two eyes close, a slow motion cut angle of the door
one looks back and she is leaving (the girl in the red shirt)
just the same as april parties change
to pool parties at first sign of may
she ends up lifeless on mattresses, alone,
but spring is on the way, summer is unfolding
we’re only free of winter
Colors are different in the warm months
and so is she, withdrawn and like the boy who kissed her
in the parking lot, fifth grade,
thinking about play-time romance and
school yard cat walks, instead,
here, quiet, flipping through fashion books, bent.
one more day inside this building will break her.
The way she looks at things is different now.
a series of unopened doors and activities
she joins without pleasure, her life
is folded magazine pages now,
unfinished crosswords, rain gathering on the

2004-10-22 | 10:33 a.m.
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