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I saw you last August

mayfly-eaten brown memories falling

cascading down amongst the leaves

you saw me there

briefly anyway

failing to recognize my importance

(and haven't you always?)

that mole looks kind of familiar,

no?

(you always noticed things like that

back in my days of pretending).

I pondered you

the millionth time

would I approach

hold back

shout

sneak around behind you

(as you did with me

a life ago)

?

you never knew me

why pretend that

when you can pretend for me

one more lie

another image to tighten

the thick, strong

very real rope

you weave for your own neck?

I saw you last August

the only leaves that fell

were in the hulking

size thirteen silhouettes of

crushed

formerly green grass

waiting to spring back to life

once you leave.