There I am,
again,
drunk in the Valentine candy aisle.
She is somewhere in Brooklyn.
Another she is in Michigan.
Another is on Long Island.
Another is in Orlando, still.
I have my headphones
and my sunglasses on
from the minutes I get up
to the moment I go to bed.
I will wear them and think of you
every day of my life
until I am dead.
Lager dreams make me think of love
and goodbye poems,
and I wonder
where birds go in the rain.