a Last Evening
the night before you leave a place, a city,
sit for a good long hour outside of a cafe and look into the street —
breath in the light-dotted night air
greedily
try to absorb something of these
streets, buildings, people
try to grab
a word, a sentence, a fragment
every moment of any old day is fleeting
but it’s the solid and clear knowledge
that you will never come here again
that brings the transitory nature of each moment into sharper focus
and impresses it deeper upon
every sensation, every waft of air,
as the last of its particular kind
lights on and off, cars here and past, people now and gone
a man in shades, bouncing in his low white cruiser
boys in caps, laughing on the corner
a woman, alone at a table
in the span of your hour long sit and soak of this street
were four parties,
three heartbreaks, and
one sunset
