Things I Miss

Wind on
My feet
In the morning,
Blue dragonflies
In the park,
Desire like
The darkest sky,
The Kingston
Target
Parking
Lot at
Sunset,
Losing days
Of summer
One by
One, Loose
Keys
Off the ring,
The Psychedelia
Of late-stage
Grief, having
Learned to
Live with it,
Kid
Money,
Lying
Awake
In a hot
Summer bed,
The orange
Air of
Another
World in
A movie,
Or someone
Has shrunk
Their family
And is being
Chased by bugs
In the tall
Grass, fresh
And endless
Wilderness,
Which I’ve
Never experienced,
The friendship
We didn’t
Have, gas
Stations by
The beach at
The Rockaways,
Taking turns
Worshipping
Each other’s
Pleasure
For days,
The unfilterable
Light of the sun,
Breathing
Dust
On North Avenue
In Chicago
In the summer,
Concrete
Air concrete
Heat, when a body
Dissolves after
It’s gone it’s
Still inconveniently
Placed against
My side, secret
Sorrow imagining
It turning
To sweetness,
How slow
It can all go,
The ring
Around
The top
Of the wine
Glass, hair
On a tree
Trunk, closing
Your eyes
At night,
Whatever holds
The world,
Suddenly accessible
Solitude,
The years
Before we
Met, making
My kale
Potato
Soup, raw
And beautiful
Boring task,
Shaking
Sand out
Of your
Hair, two
Gulls hovering
Above a
Hot dog, whatever
Begins
And ends
Inside
Writing