Faded Things: A Cento

The pay phone on the corner might ring
Something in the air wanting desperately to draw attention to itself only to assuage awkwardness

At the moment all the uppermost windows might open and let go a sky full of confetti
and banners
but the eerie sheen someone alone leaning over the aft rail mulling over his love life
might notice
Nobody will ever know why she chose the high floor she did to look down on the
cemetery
She could have stayed at street level and focused on the conspiracy of the buildings to
keep out sky

There is a kind of non threatening bewilderment that ambushes you a few days later

as you sit
The days of mutual admiration come and go

Punch lines and promises long since torn from their moorings bobbing in the slatch of the
mind
Heredity of cruelty everywhere
Now think of this day. One you will probably forget.