as a goodbye happens,
half in cars, half in streets.
how many more times
can I do this back-and-forth?
LA is just a Spirit flight away,
but if moments are all that matter
then I will be missing
so many in the air.
Brooklyn took me in,
but now it is spitting me out,
north of no south.
mornings mourn yesterdays,
half in omelets, half in sheets,
and I feel incomplete when I leave.