Museum of the Sea
I could hear coins jingling
in my bank account. I was not anything
to anybody, but a stranger,
a well-played one. An indifferent
symphony of signs. The white shirt
crumpled against a wall, the cigarette butts
strewn at the toes of creased shoeleather,
not much light is needed. Everybody begins
somewhere. We sent you roses
in the hospital, it’s a strange place
for a love affair.
The three of us banded together
in forgetting. Your tuba dirge
urged us onward, or perhaps it
was the cold stone at our backs
and the strange fright of fire,
the lightened corridor before us,
each step irreplaceable.
Bulbs of cameras flashed and captured
half-lunatic grins, the grin is a lunatic gesture.
We were banded together in forgetting,
who are you?, we sent flowers to you
at the hospital.