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pluralities
ralph adamo
i hate that you are on the other side this evening
if i go somewhere to cry for you how will i stop
i hope this finds you well. it's been too long,
i typed when you were already gone.
listening to you talk
over there is like
listening to water
i compose
you are here
music breaking whitely
one track crossing over another
to reach disaster
shooed from the 1 i stand
against one breeze
and feel the summer's cascade
buggy and wet in my blood
i a sunken man with an old nose and long eyes
wind-shredded
used to the way little becomes less
unprepared for bounty
whittling sorrow down to its toothsome size
****
the little house of my dead first wife
blows me a kiss as i go past
on wheels, the sidewalk cracks
one more 2 joke to boot, and
then i am on the other side, again.
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