Everything that happened was a blur, but she definitely ran from the parking lot with a friend of hers. She left behind some matches and some nasty schnapps masking as classy pomegranate liqueur, and the ashes of some letters in an old can of cheddar cheese crackers she'd thrown to the birds.
And you remember addressing each and every envelope, sentimentally expressing what you believed were the most pressing confessions, and waiting for her to post back her affections, but you'll just have to interpret the smoke that might read like the words she never wrote, drifting up to the sky by the Sears, drifting higher and higher till it disappears.
You better watch out; there are so many noises out there. Sirens and pistols and evacuation whistles crying since the end of the affair. It didn't have to happen the way an assassin will relieve the room of its air. It could have unraveled gradual and left you believing that what you once had was still there.
And in the darkening parking lot, slowly the local kids show with their Goats and Darts and bottles of ammonia and throttles and racing hearts, and nobody notices you stand there and watch them run under and over the smoke, all that speed but they never really go. Doubling back when they get to the end, doubling back so they might try again.
from Platinum (2009),
released September 1, 2009
By Will Georgantas; Zivlizdin Songs/BMI.