Dust Has Collected {poem}

dust has collected
on the shelves within her room

and I move so very quietly
in the dark
lifting my legs over the
tall stacks of books.

I have stopped 
eating during the day
now only drinking licorice tea
from white
porcelain tumblers I leave on the
floor when I'm finished.

She spends the morning taking
pictures of the neighbor's car
parked on the street
from different angles.
She doesn't say why.

It is December today
the harbored boats roll 
upward in the high tide

I am having a very hard time
believing anything 
is solid or laughing
or real at all or 
anymore. I've cut through sheets of colored
constructions paper
realizing how much I really loved her.
I will not find her
I won't even try
in the strange holiday from
which we push our shoulders down
and slouch our earthly bodies forward

taste the air
if you get a chance.
stop and follow the sunset
if you get a chance.
reach your hand out to touch the face of someone you love
if you get a chance.

And of Ms. Rose Blak,
she has a castle in El Monte, near
the Ralph's on Ernest Pkwy
her makeup is always running down her cheeks
she wants to swim in the ocean at night
and will drive you to Santa Monica pier.
Things won't be easy, she drives recklessly
in her Cadillac svt. she will tell you 
how she never finished paying for her car
and that the bank is after her. she will
smoke with the windows rolled up. She will drink
Soylent Green from plastic bottles and apply 
lipstick on the freeway. 

I'm not with her anymore
but I never returned her keys, cassette tapes or guns
I put those in a box in my closet
labeled 'love'.