Friday, November 13, 2009

The Time Traveler and the Auto Salesmen

I'm writing to change
the future,
but you already forget me,
I left a letter for you
next to the vase of chrysanthemums
on your desk,
I wanted to write:

"The Dreams you had of me
were meant to come true,
but for time they were only sketches
to erase."

Instead I wrote
"I guess I missed you,

The woman at the flower shop
typed heavily on the cash register,
I told her never send
Christmas flowers
in February with the sky
gray and winter watching,

There was a 57' Chevy
in the parking lot,
in 1957 it was new,
it looks new today,
its license plate
"Classic Car."

it had once read:

I told the woman at the DMV this
and that classic cars
aren't really old or classic
they just are,
I think she smiled,

I walked to your desk,
but you weren't there
and so I waited,
a man told me you no longer
worked here,
it looked like he had a firm handshake
I didn't test him,

I wondered where you had gone,
I stood there for a while
deciding to scribble a
short message
in case you ever returned

I looked at your desk,
empty but for the
fading ring left by some fading glass
I crumbled the note and
fit it into my pocket
to reread later,

how strange,
I remembered
I was going to
leave you flowers
I forget them.

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