They all say the eyes did it, the mouth did it,
True that is.
I say it is the good-bye, the
Never again –
Racing to the dirt smeared bus window, face and hands pressing –
The damp clothes hug in a pasty Mexican summer rain –
The wave from the train platform under a giant gray grain elevator –
The drunken embrace on a hard, polished wood station bench –
And waves, fast, and then hands down, and a fastened, then broken, stare –
Even the airport’s sterile white and yellow lights – good bye.
The firsts blur and fade.
The lasts, clear and sharp.