new farm is closed
the ex-muse is on her way home for good
to the walls of stale inspiration
her little boy in tow
while a lone figure of the shadows he has cast
stands in the doorway of an upstairs balcony, waiting
rain falls of this morning
cleanses the streets of the valley
water upon arduous attempts to dream
this rain is his last witness
as the car is packed
typewriter and clothes await the still room across town
yet, his smell will linger for some time in the halls
and it has been quiet
and there will be nothing good to come
of his presence here
and there is no love poem preserve,
goodbye magnesium girl
the debate has faded
with the feelings of eternity
drowned in the misguidings of gringos and dingos
the typewriter waits, a patient mistress
he says goodbye finally to the emptiness
darkness ever and always faithful
but in the surrendering there is solace
and the last parody in this passing is conducted
he locks the door and hangs a sign out-front