Goodbye

Goodbye

To live in a place 
long enough to know 

whole tonal ranges 
of color and sound

between shrubbery 
and asphalt. 

In exile, the gaps
become companions—
how they relieve the senses 

swarmed by traffic’s 
shattered music.
Now, in summer’s rut, 

I stand in a parking lot
under an overhang
and watch white threads of rain

evaporate the instant 
they collapse into the ground.

And the heat makes a sound, eating rain.