fall poem

to come so soon to this imagined dark
when i was broke in london
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
gone before us
with the meek, brown eyes
night is dark, and the winter winds
that year
do you hear the rain?
all day to watch the blue wave curl and break
in all things not spoken of
i despise my friends more than you
i stand in the cold gray weather
what was it the engines said