#172: October 12, 2006

You'll miss me when I'm gone--you'll turn around,
searching the chairs and corners of the room,
But I'll have disappeared like a new moon
Inside a starless night. I won't be found
Out on the porch, a beer popped in my hand,
Nor in the workshed cursing at my tools
For small betrayals; nor hid among the ghouls
And witches trick-or-treating. Understand
That once I've gone, there'll be no finding me,
However long you call my name or weep.
Lack of success will wear down your resolve;
You'll have to give me up eventually--
Except perhaps at night when you're asleep
And mysteries are easier to solve.