At Sunrise

The clouds spilled milk
on the light blue countertop
where I had made coffee
strong enough to wake up the sun.

What if I said I loved you?
I’m not saying it now but what if I did?
What if I meant it?

After breakfast, I tried to clean up some
of the mess. I put things in boxes which I piled
to the ceiling. I was making progress
when the boxes toppled over, spilling memories
and feelings all over the floor.

I try to comfort myself that all the best
relationships ended eventually.

Someone dies 
or there is a proxy fight or
someone is traded to Seattle 
for a player to be named later.

Regardless, I don’t see you for several years
until I happen to catch you
on a talk show telling an alien abduction story
that no one in the audience seems to believe.

JEREMY WM. FARRINGTON

Jeremy Wm. Farrington lives in Westchester, New York. He is the father of twins and a distance runner. His work has or will appear in River River, Last Leaves Magazine, and the Remington Review.