It’s raining today.
I haven’t spoken
to you
since. And, well,
how the cars go by
the thousands
in every direction,
meeting for moments
and then
away from me.
There is a color
to us
and when I see it,
I can feel that thick, red stump
in the deep of my chest
sprout horns and
call your name, mouthing stanzas
provincially, a minstrel of the wrong words
he sheds them like far away burdens, sheds them
by the hundreds and, well,
how I love you by the thousands.
2014/'15
West Vancouver