Untitled

I don't know
what takes so long
it is so hard
to say it.

I don't want to say it.
I do
want to say it.

You
broke my heart
and broke it
worst of all
so far
because I have
a lot of heartbreaks
and no terminal
diagnosis so
maybe by the
end of this year
you can get off your
dubious podium
hang your medal off
your bedpost
and dry the laurel
out in the shed
until its dusty
and faded
and covered in old spiderwebs.

You'll take up
something new
after that
I don't know what.

As for me
you
breaking my heart
is a pair of
blue underpants
of indeterminate size
dirty
and flattened
up by the curb
on a street
in my
residential neighborhood
that you
walk by
every day
and think about picking up
and throwing away
but never do
instead you see them
every time you
step over them
with mild distaste
and they
don't degrade
very fast
in these conditions
it will take years
of rain
and cars
and snow and salt
and a plow
and the baking sun

I'm not
casting aspersions
I don't
pick them up either
I step over them too

thinking about how long it takes
and how long lost they are
and the asphalt under them
made of real small rocks
and something else
and the substrate asphalt
under that
that they strip down to
for resurfacing
and the medium gravel
under that
and the big gravel
under that
and the hard packed and tamped dirt
under that

and then the relief
of just plain old rocks
and plain old dirt
under that

nothing special at all.