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i was deleting these movies
i’d never watch/the titles
making more of a stand
than their files’ contents;
and,
upon deleting
the one entitled, “california,”
i noticed/
notched a sense of emotion
for the inevitable withdrawal
from all thoughts of moving there,
and this image,

of the girl
perhaps sneezing/laughing/i see her crying
and the man,
as i press, “yes,” and
let all pass;
then, the second,
or the first of files,
shows him lonely,
and i feel he is me.

but,
he could be travelling,
lending his time toward
some other endeavour,
one which may lean him to
aisle,
ready to remove himself
from this vessel,
instead of perched
upon the window’s cold
steel,
waiting
to find where you may look back
and believe that was the best place to be.

you looked at me today,

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