349

There were thirty of the same
blanket at the store,
but I took home the one that had always been mind
like everything I've ever had or lost

348

I just walked out of the room-
I wonder if I'll remember it
the first time I'm alive while you are dead.

But there's a table in the path
back to the room I left you in
and I'd rather keep going than get on my knees
and let you think you've moved an inch
since I left you standing there

347

Don't apologize for climbing the trees
and ribbing out some of their leaves.

Even the willow in your yard
will grow the same once you are gone,
won't miss you more than it'll miss
the ones who one day cut it down.

346

You didn't have to hide,
just keep me tired
enough that I won't look
in the drawers you know I'll never need

345

Once I was a truck driver,
and once the highway emptied and never again did I see a car,
and I was still worried about the traffic in the mornings,
always waiting for a woman to come
walking down the middle lane
and stopping to ask if I'd seen her purse.

344

They'll never rip you from your chair
but the floor may be pulled out from under you
and the paint on the walls may peel and curl
when all you did was never leave

343

They've forgotten about the room they own
in the house I've lived in since I was born
and the padlock they put on the door

They may be dead like all my
childhood friends who moved away
before I could write down their names

But we just put our ears to the door
and echoes form the shape of the walls