A cold night. October pumpkins have rotted where left on suburban porches. The dead are gone for another year.
I still remember her cold light, her frigid weight, beside me in the bed, for the one night she was allowed back.
She wanted black coffee, but sweets were a saccharine gospel. She wanted the songs that filled her with longing.
We danced, really just swaying in each other’s arms. That lovelorn song from when she was a girl.
Morning, thermos of coffee, watching the sun, watery and dim, rise over the empty train yard.
I told her I loved her. She said it was so cold in the underworld. So cold, and so easy to forget me.
The sun fully light, she went back under for another year. I poured out the dregs of the coffee.
Back in my apartment, I listened to that lovelorn ballad, and wondered if she’d find it easier to remember, when I went underground too.