I think of you when I see fuchia and gray siding,
spiderwebbing rivers of grass in the sidewalk.
I see you in the grime on the sides of skyscrapers
and the clouds hanging low,
hiding their windows in a cold, infinite upward mist.
It's apathetic and beautiful in the same careless way as you.
I didn't even want to kiss you,
It was enough to be the momentary target of your disdain.
Because I had the misfortune of learning to love that way
and your apathy was good to me.
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