Can I live in the shadow of your absence?
Can I survive the passing of your presence?
Do I want to?
I will stand under trees in lightning,
cross streets as the light turns red,
swallow sleeping pills with gin,
scourge myself with the worst of odds
hoping that the same accident of fate
that took you from me
will take what’s left of me away.
218 ®Copyright 1966 Jack Scott. All rights reserved.