The life you were looking for has moved
or been displaced by local grievances
or revised parameters: everything is kept
inside now: consider that grey-green tree
frog, or the social security survival benefit
paperwork. What are things? Some lives
and yes, some loves, endure, but deletion
does not give increase. This summer's
melons are soft, collapsing into memory's
decaying enclosures: this woman said
"alcoves." The lives around here are ossified.
Your team was offsides for the first half
dozen decades: now the errors echo
soft through dumb alerts and barren alleys.
Batten down the hatches: but don't count
on surviving the storm: there will be
no wedding; I can't release the savage nor
the goodly spirit. In my one good shirt I
stand, finally alert. Love was a thing with
no after-party, just all these pages missing.