*one too many*

boughs barren
such as these
know me too well

and light and streets
and nights and dark

and you once
like the morning after 
and what it meant to have meant to mean

but mornings now I break alone
unmeaning
though I'd lie between two way traffic
to part still waters
and marquee lights 

passages

and stairs

everyday nights no one cares
remember :

like poems I write on napkins
these memories meant for tomorrow's forgetting
along with the grey faces that will forget me and
the hollow panes I wondered at

rails and granite 
the dull hum of mercury 
and regret 

and how I break
every morning 

and every morning
how I break 
and go on