blurred eyes
he walked to the end
of the street
barely remembering
where he is and
when he needs to
meet her
he sits on the bench
with a schedule in his
starched pocket
smoking a cigar
and gazing through
amber tint
buses come and go
the sun drifts behind
that hill and he squints
his worn schedule
confuses him
fountain pen
pencil marks
scratches and tape
keep his day together
she explodes
into his broken
mind
her bright blue eyes
and searing red lips
that summer on the lake
when she taught him
how to swim
and not be afraid
that humid night
when they
held their
bodies close
a family of five
she died
and he was alone
in a home
of forgotten heroes
he kept her close
that shawl on that one
night when they
were animals
he wears her
jasmine pin
and smells it
when he can’t
remember