You may argue that the hardest part of leaving
Is simply that:
Leaving.
But it’s the taking that’s got me.
What stays and what comes with?
The smokes, certainly, and the football.
But what about this picture of the frozen summer
Before I knew which way the wind would blow.
Do I want that?
It is small, but heavy as stolen candy.
Extracting the picture, I find the frame
Much lighter.
The road will bring other pictures.
Taking and Leaving –
Sleepers beneath the same covers
Slipping away
As the sun defines the wrinkled landscape of
A new day.

Propped against a post in the keen autumn air,
I watch ten trains slide by
Too quickly,
And one week-long train of hard-boiled Mondays.
As I light each cigarette
I give it a name.
Lungs clutch the smoke
Then let it go
Let it go
Let it go

The day comes in a nondescript package.
I put my money down, spin the compass
And escape on gasoline wings.
My engine passes into dusk
With the sound of a door
Closing slowly on the laughter of friends.
I am heading for the sun’s embrace
Where new hands will raise a glass of amber,
Even as the circle of the moon
Breaks on the mountains
Behind me.