Window gazing in a train
Some thoughts about the bride
impaled upon a severed frame
The bicycle she used to ride
around me, bona fide touch to appease me
(every night in bed, assured
I'm the third and fourth hands holding her)
"Send you off to shop. Just get me onions, sour,
and a mound of rye
(Slowly, 'cause I need an hour)"
Italian divorce in films
without remorse--the way I feel
A bike balanced on both my knees
I shave the joints with metal files
Now all it needs is weight. I wait;
She'll be home in a while
She'll give me onions, then she'll fly on wheels
to court a lawyer by the train tracks
Submit the facts: a young wife dead of broken heart,
pierced by a wasted steering rod,
departed with her love of god