i see you sometimes on buses
in train stations:
a fleeting sarcastic apparition.
but i don't believe in ghosts
and i don't believe you ever spoke
of anything at all that mattered.
man of mystery, your mouth is closed
but also your eyes.
hands folded
blueish skin.
one last cigarette and its ashes
float away on the cold autumn
air of the countryside.
1 comment:
"and i don't believe you ever spoke
of anything at all that mattered."
I love the split her after 'spoke'. Such an effective use of structure.
Ahhhhh, yes.
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