some sad thursday poetry

A Thursday in the sun & he lost his change for coffee.
It was a small thing,
the $3.62 she spared.
It was a small thing,
their falling in love.
It happened shortly after some long afternoons,
when they were drunk on sun and had
finished laughing too hard.
She knew she liked that he could dance
and had memorized Yeats and had a
dimple in his smile that she knew she liked.

Sometimes they would go somewhere nice
and dance until two or three or four.
Then once they went somewhere nice
and his knee found the floor and she was happy.
Then later they went somewhere nice
and the Clocks danced but only knew the foxtrot
and they made the rhythm all wrong.

And then the leaves were burning.
And then the ground was dying.
And then, painfully, new things were sprouting
And she wanted just-
couldn’t wait just to hum lullabies.

Instead they slept in a graveyard of
long afternoons and Yeats poems and slowly
she would read the inscription overhead:
“the $3.62 you spared.”

-I am super intrigued by these images from Jesse Kuhn Watch them as a slideshow. . . it's lovely.