Conversation 1


concrete doesn’t shed leaves
nor lamp poles set across lake and trees

I hold the heart of a door and construct
beginnings and ends by the side I’m on

there are decisions which are corners
and windows display alternatives

there is sunlight on a table where breakfast
crumbs form meaningless patterns

there is coffee and the sugar from regret

I keep the shells of days as souvenirs
on a shelf with books of poetry

there is the internet wormhole escape
and a thousand ideas for the next story

there is January snow to shovel from
the driveway and sidewalk again and again

there are books in the library to sort in an
arcane way like footsteps on the bones of regret

and there is a scattering of time on jimmied history