ten september
eight p.m.

you drove by today. it'd been three weeks. and you stopped at the corner, and looked out the rear windshield. i had turned around; stood facing you, half a block away. and i waved, sadly, and you waved, sadly. and maybe it isn't one-sided. maybe you've missed me, too.

and he asked how i was doing, offered me gin, lingered in the doorway. glasses and collared shirt and leaning over the lightbox.