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,
Love,
Tom"
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
reads:
"Classic Car."
it had once read:
"DGC-1486"
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
because
I was going to
leave you flowers
but
I forget them.
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