class three

your face looks cold and distant and
i wanted to reach out, walk over
smooth your forehead and know
that we'll both become something more than
what i thought was finished
are you tired? your feet spread in comfort
but you look so bored with it
nothing changes, the spectacle is all a meaningless
circus.
do you know i'm writing a poem
about you?
at least now, when it still seems you
don't see me
i'm comforted by my privacy
i wouldn't want you to know.
the trees still make me feel like
breathing
deeply.