YOU'VE PATCHED MY HEART
WITH YOUR MARKING GUN
One Two Three Four. It goes like that gingerly on.
The trees slowly fade now, colors and then not,
slow go, leaves falling. That old crunch upon
brown ground once more. I remember, as I
always do, last year. Ecclesiastes, was it?
Nothing new under the sun?
Now, move over. The mailman's got my
coat and I'm running free and easy. He's
finally told me your address, and that's
exactly where I'm headed.