Not being here costs much,
going where he is not.
And having one clue left
but not using it. Austin was far off.
Churning the old truth:
the first autumn was hard enough,
having moved on, even!
Sex and being cold.
Zeroing out all thought
and blissed out on what's left
which is ash, beer-ends,
and having eaten too much;
like a dirge Thanksgiving.
You are unrightly cold,
indian summer notwithstanding,
full of old magic; deep earth;
videogame cartridges;
and the poster of Elvis Costello
drained of mirth,
looking toward the window.
