a thought or two of death of those i love
and i am back to where i started years ago
with little trembles from womb to doom
that fade only when exhaustion strengthens

in the corridors of the years i had with them
down the slope of experience that flavored the days
as they passed like off-duty taxis past us
over some insignificant hill into the darkness

all the nights with women and all the nights without
rain down onto a tired soul when it is at its weakest.
tomorrow will be another day closer to the death of those i love
and closer to the fear of death of the one i love most