LAST BUS LEAVING

You can't return a steak to the kitchen
when you're gnawing on the bone,
but you may already be a winner

skimming the leaves from pools
that used to be the eyes you stared into
until you went blind
beyond a love for cash and silver,
elect me late in the evening
when the phone stays
silent in your pocket,

I am always an out stretched hand
groping for a chin to stroke
and a cheek to slap,

one of these days becomes all of these days
as soon as you and I woke up at the same moment
in different cities, on different coasts,

even the planets weep in numbers that confound
the map makers who cannot give directions to Heaven or Hell,
lost in all places
in between every great thing
that's already over and done with,
the road does not narrow, it vanishes,

the key chain is useless
because the house has collapsed
and the doors are only splinters
of their former resistance.