cherry red

burns to carbon grey

begging to be flicked

tossed into the ashtrays of tomorrow

and the next day is

waiting just like

today

to be put out.

only to be seen again in

rewind

as I tie the knot

around the trash bag.

I drove by a florist today

that had a van parked out front with

"We Deliver Love"

painted on its side.

they have never knocked

on my 

door.

my mail box is

full of junk and

bills.

that could be love.

only if love

took

Sundays off like the

United States Postal Office does.