Jan
17
Next Time You Come
All the things human and non that litter the surface of the earth
From Tulsa to Indonesia to the half-bottle of Scope here
In the bathroom of my house where you read this,
You will have to let them go.
As part of this ritual you might now weep,
Or in the kitchen there is the blackberry pie
That you made by my mother’s recipe,
Cold and sweet in foil in the fridge.
If you desire you are more than welcome to hang out
And scratch your head over which clues you missed
When the holster still hung heavy in its place in the back of the closet.
There you’ll find the shoes you’ve been looking for.
Maybe fill an empty suitcase with our great ideas
We could never execute and make of them a sacrifice
To whatever force winds our slapstick paths,
If you believe in such a thing.
Beneath the spider silk yarn on the table by the bed
Where we slept together and had the dreams we sold,
Your oft fingered book on mid-century modern architecture.
Don’t forget to grab it when you go.
-Brad on the Upper West Side (search phrase “the next time you come”)