in the stick count for the song with knowing you’re gone glancing up at where you lived when you lived here
i see you suddenly alive and nearly smiling i stop and hold my breath and watch the way you used to be
the full moon makes our faces shine like over-ironed polyester
then disappears behind the clouds and leaves me under empty rows of night windows
we could walk to where these streets get pulled together blinking, lined with gravel shoulder squared towards an end
where the radio resounds from doppling traffic where the power lines steal lessons from the hourly news
depluralize our casualties drown the generals out in static we turn and watch our city sprawl and send us signals in the glow of night windows night windows
(but you’re not coming home again and i won’t ever get to say)
remember how i’m sorry that i miss the way it could be