| I feel numb |
| Only the sound |
| Of jet engines |
| High over Pittsburgh |
| I'm afraid |
| Talking to myself |
| About us |
| Into the void |
| At the trieste café in Frisco |
| You and I talked about our future |
| The quilt we slept under |
| At our first apartment on Strathmore Road |
| The drive south through Big Sur |
| The fluorescent waves |
| San Simeon |
| Early mornings |
| Too much coffee |
| I walk aimlessly and watch the sun break |
| Between Boston skyscrapers |
| I feel red currents swelling inside |
| The day ending |
| I remember the July mornng |
| You wanted out |
| Now all I wish to do is watch you |
| Blow-drying your shortened hair |
| Brushing your teeth |
| Putting make-up on |
| As you keep pace with your early morning ritual |
| I remember you |
| Framed by an easterly facing window |
| Considering my irishness |
| I apologize |
| I can still hear you saying |
| No one ever hit my heart so hard |
| |
| —Philip Hackett |
