walked to the mailbox
brushed the stick off
that fell onto my hat
from the soaked tree limbs
of last night’s rainy horror

strayed the block
through reminiscent
tears of attachment
barely noticing the green toad and the black turd
in my path

on this brittle day
I reissued my love letter
to you, man, dude,
holy shit, I loved you
asked for kisses and hand holding
that stuff we did
sitting in the furniture delivery truck
on your lunch breaks

I barely remembered those warning signs
on your face
and the fate of action plans
for booze and long-haired women

life is brittle, isn’t it?
with sticks and toads and turds,
and lovers lost to smarmy worlds
of gin and long hair