Not a Love Poem
Those days I was in love
with what was broken,
with trains that didn’t leave
the station, but instead watched
TV from my couch, or perhaps
that wasn’t a train in the living room,
but I had purchased a ticket
to no place special, to it’s easier
to stay inside. The radio played
silk dresses and I kept putting on
my ratty shawl. The train
on the couch kept asking for beer.
Those days I was in the love
with the phone line, with calling
out the window to people
I didn’t know and asking,
How’s the weather out there?
If you listened between rainstorms,
what I was really saying was,
We settle, we settle.
