04/14/20 The Old Ways

I’m not ready to say goodbye to the old ways
but there’s a black streak on the window
from the years of hurried treatments
and the dew from the most recent configuration of dusk
is rushing to meet it,
and then all those plans I navigated with a bouquet in my fist
will turn
to frost.
Don’t you want to meet
without the defense of second thoughts?
I’m not ready to say goodbye to the old ways,
but every forecast promises a last kiss
regardless of the messenger.
We could go on like this
back and forth to each other,
for another quarter of an eternity,
but the post office may go bankrupt;
there’s a supply line already quavering
with your heat
and other interrupted thoughts,
and someone,
somewhere,
has thought through all of our contingencies
and buried them in paper.
I’m not ready to say goodbye to the old days,
but you’re waiting somewhere, aren’t you?
With a fist full of flowers,
a new language on your lips,
and a fresh sharpie in your other hand