Yesterday, as the radio playeda blackbird ditty,you called me chalcedonyand in retrospectI guess you were right.
“Look at all the lonely people.”she translatedwith the poetry of her hands,as the music flowed throughthe apertures of my heart,as though…
A fumble on a chord with a pause, then a reset,
I used to sing Marvinso that I could win her ivory smiles, with the words of a lonely preacher’s son.