The Yellow Sock
Ah
What is this damned rain doing
To these late days of July
Persian silk tree male black locust not yet that
dying rose bays
And with this weeping willow
Which just recently matured to a dark green color
With windows rooftops
With words we remember less
Don’t hang up
Wait to hear the gutter’s cough the sparrow’s sneeze
And the sigh of one of me who still thinks of you
Ah
What is this damned rain doing
To these late days of July
Leaves somewhat dangling benches chained
And the empty seat of that woman
Who left at the corner of my mind
An oblique look
A slanted smile and a yellow sock
July 2004