I reached up into the top of the closetand took out a pair of blue pantiesand showed them to her andasked "are these yours?" and she looked and said,"no, those belong to a dog." she left after that and I haven't seenher since. she's not at her place.
I keep going there, leaving notes stuckinto the door.
I go back and the notesare still there.
I take the Maltese crosscut it down from my car mirror, tie itto her doorknob with a shoelace, leavea book of I go back the next night everythingis still there.
I keep searching the streets for thatblood-wine battleship she driveswith a weak battery, and the doorshanging from broken hinges.
I drive around the streets an inch away from weeping,ashamed of my sentimentality andpossible love. a confused old man driving in the rainwondering where the good luckwent.
