Published: October 2, 2008

there is a sadness in the crackle of the 1920s

in the desks we stood on and made our english teacher cry

in a curtain call

a sandpaper confusion that idles in the driveway

the small tinny voice that smoothes over eardrums and resonates

there is a sadness in your pockets

someone sewed it there  like a nametag.

or a secret letter.

(a double agent?)

the cable car with tiny lights can see the four

wind-whipped and sullen.

i climbed to the top once

and watched the lonely flicker from the bottom in the snow with absolute conviction.

the second star to the right no longer looms for inspection.

you are as surely peter as i am right handed

after all, boy

what are you without your shadow?