in the stick count for the song
with knowing you’re gone
glancing up at where you lived
when you lived here

I see you suddenly alive
and nearly smiling
I stop and hold my breath
and watch the way you used to be

the full moon makes
our faces shine
like over-ironed polyester

then disappears behind the clouds
and leaves me under empty rows
of night windows

we could walk to where these streets
get pulled together
blinking, lined with gravel
shoulder squared towards an end

where the radio resounds
from doppling traffic
where the power lines
steal s's from the hourly news

depluralize our casualties
drown the generals out in static
we turn and watch our city sprawl
and send us signals in the glow
of night windows
night windows

(but you’re not coming home again
and I won’t ever get to say)

remember how
I’m sorry that
I miss the way it could be

night windows