A cigarette left in an ashtray.
A cat, a tabby, and a newspaper against the door.
I was once 64. And in October…
my cat raises one paw and stretches.
The sun talks to me. It says…
what are the reasons for the sky?
A black and white polaroid photograph from
the seventies… curled on one edge,
laying on the ground.
How old am I today? I am this many plus three.
Turquoise and water, shimmering.
I am this many plus three.
I live here in this white shabby house.
You may see me at times.
I live mostly around the corner at my friends.
I live here beneath this unfortunate sky.
September 