90 or Fear of Names

Maybe it is the long days.

Maybe it is the short nights.

I think it is both.

Maybe it is the pollen.

It coats my porch.

Maybe it is the dreams I have,

of women I do not know,

women I once knew.

Maybe it is sentimentality.

Maybe I am tired,

I do not feel well.

Maybe I am tired.

My stomach is in knots.

I am going out with no money in my pockets.

I will find someone,

someone to listen to my stories.

I am moving to .