—THAT’S A LOT OF FOG

 

The Art of Loving You

 

I went to the MoMA 

without you 

It was raining inside 

a lost bus and a 

woman who looked like 

you though not nearly 

as beautiful offered to 

carry my burdens 

for less than fifty bucks 

a bargain too hard to pass up

There wasn’t an Uber 

in sight this being Manhattan 

and inside the MoMA

people gawked but held tight

Every wall wore a grandmother yet 

was otherwise childless

I stood there observing for 

an entire lifetime then 

turned the corner where 

you’d left your soul that day