He tells me I’m haunted
by what happened
when she turned,
pursed her lips,
said the words
that cleaved . . .
Wide horizon, open sky,
breeze restless as a mind,
as tall grass sways,
one way, then another,
then flattened by rain.
He struggles to find balance,
then raises his gaze.
He’ll blow from here,
change clothes, go out.
Maybe he’ll meet someone, have a time.
He’ll try to forget her,
try again because he can.
He so wants to take on airs.
