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HALF-DONE WORLD
I propose to put things differently,
but then I forget to & get lost watching fall decorate
the peach trees
& barely know myself. Light fades among the mown
yellow grasses.
In Maine the ocean wears a black tuxedo.
Sunlight comes to mind, a return to quiet afternoons,
| someone
lazing in tall grass. I keep bringing the old love back
to mind.
She's gone away for good, but I can't get over it.
I record my voice saying her name, then mimic her
saying I love you. It gets no better,
trails away
into undistinguished pleading and lies. The day
strains against itself, gives up, slides into twilight &
soft ex-summer airs.
I'm not trying to tell a story.
I watch my best friend paint, watch him lean into the
small square
he's set against an easel dabbing yellow into the field.
More often than not the old men don't pass the old
ways on.
The young men walk down the road singing stupid
songs
& making promises they'll never keep, & this is
familiar.
Love watches itself go to pieces in someone's
backyard,
& later we admit we have no explanation for how
things turned out.
My friend, with a brush tipped lightly against the
cloth,
holds down a world-as dark comes-half-done
world, already passed.