Hot Saturday.
Long shadows.
I talked to you at the roadhouse,
by where you parked your car.
Only a couple other cars there that time of day.
You said you’d just be minute,
and I should wait.
I watched you walk in there
dress clinging to your legs,
hair braided down your back
and stood there like some kind of step-child.
Far as I can tell, you never walked out.
You know,
I don’t know
when I missed you more,
When you were here,
or now that you’re not.
Friday, March 28, 2008
