it’s not the r of regret

or the late r of remorse

in recent remembrance

a myopic memory

that can’t see you now

I can barely make out what was somehow

a single r drifting a-top alphabet soup

when the bowl is too hot to hold

along the sidewalk wonder

cast off philosophers and sightless seer’s fresh flowing coins from foreign faces bleached in the heat

of a weekend going nowhere

I can easily lose you in the crowds now

I can quickly forget our easy come

I don’t even really look anymore