From this window, I get a parking lot.
Strong calves in keds.
Cherry blossom, mixed paper,
Cans and bottles. Trash.
This is a window of mixed feelings.
Where rain sun and dust match scores.
The sight of yellow teeth is mildly repulsive.
As is a virile penis.
And earnest conversation.
And I wade through a riotous sheaf of papers.
Hoping to find nostalgia in old movies and chitchat.
But it’s not there.
Expiry date of memory has come and gone.
So now all is liquidy, clean.
Loves and hates turn yellowish grey.
From a distance, they look like affections.
The moment passes slowly in afternoon sun.
Devoid of an annotation.
Dies as un-rememberable death.