Three years three months and counting (edit 1)

Here,
leaves are falling
through
glassy air,
rustling, puddling
in corners.

There,
you used to swim in the morning.
At night
you’d go out to the swing,
and sit and talk to me,
your cigarette smoke
climbing the ropes,
while dogs’ yelps
tore holes
in the darkness.

Here,
My neighbor’s dog
is missing her owner.
She sings
for his safe return
with keen,
loving
cries.

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