Someone I knew used to live close, but then she left for fresher air Walking alone, sometimes I think I see her face here and there I look closer, but the stride is wrong: just a stranger passing by The subway from home comes out just once to cross the bridge, above the blue Part of me hopes maybe today we'll stay outside the whole way through But we go back into tunneled stone. Windows turn black, underground A pen full of ink, a notebook that's still in plastic wrap, tucked away To work through the aches, I said that I'd write my feelings down. Not today Follow one blade on the ceiling fan till I lose it. Start again