style, a gift 2555 days ago, and now I
have one moon, one star, one sun
instead of two.
Where is it? Stuck in
a crack somewhere? I can’t imagine re-
tracing steps back to the moment it
slipped off nonchalantly, without me
feeling it until I felt it—my fingers
pinching my earlobes as if it just
happened— my scarf the culprit.
Below I see traffic stop & go,
its music strikes a chord that I
can’t match. Somewhere down
there, on the avenue’s sidewalk
my earring’s sun and moon and star
lies crumpled up, waiting for the stranger
who wears one earring to pick it up . . .
Neither beautiful or successful, rain-
drops ten stories, straight down, with-
out any of us knowing that they will strike
our faces, one after another & our cheeks
will smart red & we won’t know why we’re
unhappy, pulling our collars close—our
contained breath clouding our glasses with
a string of profanity because we’re stuck
walking the distance in this sudden storm
just to pick up a paycheck.