say you can
die
of a
broken
heart
she
said to me
once
but
I
am more
likely
to get
hit by a
car
We were
castaway people
from the
other side
of the
glass
she
had lived
a crumpled
dollar bill life
like
a tattoo
on Downtowns
arm
her
kisses tasted
like
lipstick and
vodka
I
was thinking
about
a sober Chistmas
but
she just
shook
her head
She
had hardluck
blues
Quality
House liters
the only cure
When
I would
leave
her,
to walk the
eight blocks
to the liquor store
her
face would be grey
as a cypress barn
When
I would
come back from
day labor
mornings
with
the brown paper
package
her
eyes would light
up like
I
just got out
of prison
I
see her
still
a thousand faces
sad old ladies
giddy little girls
she
was the saddest
muse
she
died of a
broken heart
