Contemporary Poetry
1 min
Detroit Morning
NJ Byrne
On the ruined road
that runs along the lake drive
where the laughing gulls shriek
and the invisible fish swim
as if they had invented silence
in my blue coat in the warm wool coat
I first wore when you were still alive
still walking cautiously in your bedroom slippers
across the living room carpet
your gray hair combed in Detroit style
Still a great city to live you said
even now, but not for the haircuts
but for the dogs and the zip sauce
Some things change,
others remain the same
like the cold bite of winter on my fingers
as I place them one by one
the rocks I gather into a cardboard cup
Each one as you would have said
alone except for the others
because that's what we are
that runs along the lake drive
where the laughing gulls shriek
and the invisible fish swim
as if they had invented silence
in my blue coat in the warm wool coat
I first wore when you were still alive
still walking cautiously in your bedroom slippers
across the living room carpet
your gray hair combed in Detroit style
Still a great city to live you said
even now, but not for the haircuts
but for the dogs and the zip sauce
Some things change,
others remain the same
like the cold bite of winter on my fingers
as I place them one by one
the rocks I gather into a cardboard cup
Each one as you would have said
alone except for the others
because that's what we are
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