Birds in the Rain

There I am,
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.