Depression era pink

glasses breaking

into cubes of falling ice

marbles hitting concrete where hard

should never be

we are soft crinoline and chiffon

we are baby powdered and tight wigs on

to march and strut the catwalk of the world

masks and smiles glued straight

for nothing is as it appears

my love

our bottles of time have used up

their sand

the touch of summer burns my hand

beaches and cocktails and empty bar stools

I saw myself there once

I was looking for you

driving in circles

speeding through rain with the top down

we cut our hair, we changed the locks, we left

the light on

listening for the sound of aching

as it crested the hill

driving too fast at night

slick wheels, slow eye movement

the lament of everything on mute

beauty doesn’t exist in the world

when your heart is carved hollow and