the water system
has broken down again
the first letter of spring
still hasn't arrived
your old poem says it's easier
to water trees outside your head
i wish i knew what you meant
i keep this picture of you
right inside the door
waiting for an answer
i meant to tell you
after the last accident
with all those pictures
of the car and
the curled-up chrome
not wanting to look
cause you'd be
looking for blood
when the sound
of walking on glass
has you seeing
them again
and that white car
bent in the middle
on that trip out west