242 or Back II

I can’t stand the heat
in your room.
I can’t stand the cold on
your steps.
I can’t stand flying or
airport bathrooms or
airport bars.
I hate all the cars I
see on the highway and
all the people in line
at the pharmacy.
I can’t handle breathing the
air you say is yours.
I don’t want to breathe
air in the spring.
And I’d take back all the
seasons if I could,
grasp them between my fingers.
I only want to watch you
take your shoes off
when you get home,
put your coat on the couch
and say all the days before
are gone.