Sunday, July 4, 2010


One of my better memories
is imprisoned in amber
like a semi-precious insect.
Do you remember me?

I was the one behind
the guy you insisted
on looking away from
at the dance. If,

by chance, our eyes
had met that night,
we might have met again
behind some billboard.

But you were looking elsewhere
at everything you saw there.

No comments:

Post a Comment