and I realize now that
all your frantic
requirements
woven in the
deep line of
retirements for

who

you are (or were—it hardly
matters anymore,
anyway)
was all just
sunshine’s
words of play,

& I wonder if you cared,
at all.

and I,
just a flash of
blue on gray in your
ocean of
need—a wave to
crash one rocky day:
white stains fade in
disarray
upon the shore of

you,

& I barely hope you cared,
at all.

but the sand &
the sun are
warmer here,
anyway.