Long face of Nostalgia with a rubber
eye—a tap on my bones—
I saw you looking at me,
trying to persuade. I
didn’t want to look in your
direction. But I feel you closing in,
your breath on my shoulder,
then a stirring in my body.
Go find a day job where
you won’t bother anyone, something
remote, like a sheepherder. Go roam
the mountains and give me
a passing nod. Leave my past in a shack
with no electricity and only
spring water, a few shrubs.
And don’t think when you wander close
to my home that you can stop by
and strike up a conversation—
