Bird

Now that I am incapable of telling stories that do anything but rebreak your heart
I sit inside and stitch together umbrellas from the slips of women who tell me that
they love me but can't have anything to do with me.

A new poignancy will arrive tomorrow on the back of an unnamed bird.
It will wear its hair blond . Convex curves
of thigh and hip built to compliment
the empty arches of my hands.

Meanwhile
outside in the rain
the whole world is struggling
to keep their cigarettes dry.