Posted on Jan 8, 2012
A found poem compiled from Craigslist Missed Connections posts
Are you alive? Or did you die
in that crash on Martin Luther?
Sundays are quieter now
without all the blues guitar.
I have three cats in my room;
I don’t know any of their names.
I am drinking and can’t remember
the specifics of that last night:
What color were our coats?
What type of shoes did you wear?
Is there possibility in absence?
I miss you, but then I don’t.