From my son's room comes the sound
of my youth, so long gone now:


Goodbye, Ruby Tuesday
Who could hang her name on you
when you change with every new day
still I'm gonna miss you

What do I miss?

What I never knew
as much as what I knew.

The boys whose kisses created warmth
where there had been none before, the girls
who laughed and cried with me, the grandmother
who taught me to chain one and loop two
(or something like that), the father who taught
me how to parallel park in his old brown caddy.

This afternoon, in the cold that decided
to revisit this town, I sat in the sun
and crushed buttercups. Not because


Enough.