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.