I put my hand out the window
as the car went around the corner
always, always, laughing now,
you opened your palm into the wind
and I thought
“where have you been?”
where have I been?
and I let my hair whip my face for once
and I let myself love you again
Look at these hands
as I roll down the car window,
one more time
—-as I hold a cigarette
“how did this get here,
I hate the taste”
as I cover my eyes,
red as pain,
looking at my hands,
as they approach my mouth,
halfway to forgetting.
my thank yous have become tired
but you still accept them with a “you’re welcome”
and I still persist in handing them out.
I say thank you
and have forgotten how to say it
when I really mean it.
we still pretend that it means something
but it means nothing.
I’ve forgotten how to mean a lot of things,
like laughs and frowns.
but I know that I’m not happy.
I say thank you,
but I know that I’m not thankful.
How long have I been staring at this candle?
—No one has spoken to me for five
and I’ve been playing with my fingers,
Someone talk to me. ———- (please).
They move around;
—-so many people to see
(funny how they all have time for everyone,
—-everyone, that is, except for me)
—and I look up to the light on the ceiling.
Is it the brightness that’s making me cry?