Drowning | ✓

Falling

But then I did fall -

slowly

at first, like a baby learning to crawl;

like snow

falling softly to the empty ground.

And I began to love the way

he read: how he was

never

without a well worn book in between his

cigarette fingers.

And I noticed his

lopsided smile

and the way that it chased itself across his face,

its only shadow

a threading dimple.

And I admired his

deftly dealt cards and

the careful way that they took up his

fraying left pocket;

the way that he played them,

the way that he spun them

so hypnotically:

black

red

black

red.