this side of a bank. Those with me
stopped calling, abruptly.
A girl loved me once and I lost her.
I turned to find her but
she was gone. I couldn’t call after.
One night in May I read love poems.
Outside the couples laughed, and
voices and screen doors slammed.
I was so stoned once that the true words
were like air gasped out of a tube.
I ended up in some other room.
I once forgot how much pain I had
and tried to say it out loud.
People dislike that kind of pain.
Once was back then, let’s say.
Night is relentless as day.
Hope and promise never