me and the sunset

bad-weather friends come to me

for advice about their boyfriends

i take a long drag off a bummed cigarette

so that i'll look cool


red noses greet me at

the hill at the edge of town

we sit there watching the moon,

or the absence of a moon,

for hours into more hours


my friend grew a beard

to look less like his father

but he takes his problems with him

wherever he goes, in a brown

beat-up leather briefcase


i sat on the top of the hill

after everyone had left

and i felt like

an unfinished 392-piece jigsaw puzzle