with age, after Charles Bukowsi

I go to the bench.

That bench on the cliff.

I remember when we were 12

And we'd go there together.

I didn't know your hair was chestnut brown.

I was away for a bit

I'm sorry I didn't get your message.

I know you needed me, I'm sorry I didn't reply.

I went to the bench. The sky was orange, and purple, and pink and red.

My mom told me, the sky turns orange, and purple, pink and red because of chemicals in our atmosphere- put there by us, humans.

I went to the bench today, you weren't there, you haven't been.

I didn't think you would fall out of love with me, when you didn't, I thought you would.

Should we still try? We, so you don't feel alone, try- milk it for what it's worth.

You didn't leave a note they said.

I checked the bench, maybe you carved it.

I'm sorry,

I checked the bench, still, maybe it blew away, on the beach? Maybe it's in the sand, still? I'm not sure.

I'm sorry.

I went to the bench, and the sky was orange, and purple, and pink, and red.

I looked at that orange sky bad wondered if you thought of me.

I wondered if you pushed me from your head, so that when you jumped it would hurt less.

I wondered if it hurt at all.

I went to the bench, to sit there.

Maybe if I sat long enough I could be closer to you.

Maybe I could think what you thought, maybe a crashing wave will sound just like you remembered.

Maybe a dove would pass in the orange sky. Doves mate for life, you know? If one dies, the other dies alone.

I wonder if doves have benches too. I wonder if doves care the sky is orange, and purple, pink, and red.