When You See the Cusp of Changing Circumstance

We clambered into your car

and I watched you and let you talk about plans

And I smiled, a little crookedly, to humor you,

but behind those teeth were sadness, weariness, blue,

because I know those plans will come to nothing.

Because I know, promises hatch from your mouth and their ghosts break in my lap,

and I smile, but I look down at the print of my skirt, forgiving you now for what you will do.

Should I tell you what I see, or would that speed the perishing?

Eh, you’ll get there eventually, and since I never believed you, I won’t be hurt.