They're No Longer TogetherThey watch the drizzle fall, and mourn
Discretely. Now so far apart in space,
In temperament, in social standing.
He is far above, at some soap opera
Actor's window, looking down.
The streets are greasy gray, the cars
On them like gathered lice. She runs
The carousel which winds through
The dry cleaner's shop, retrieves
The suits and dresses on it, goes back
Home to Mom and Dad, and drinks
Discreetly, goes to bed, as he does
What he can to prove he's free and easy.
Maybe someone there will find him
Perfect for a starring role. That would
Be nice, but he keeps staring at the street,
Imagining he sees her walking from
That damned dry cleaner's store,
Not to her parents' house but toward
This apartment, and his arms.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
Read 67 times
Written on 2019-10-16 at 01:51
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