he’d sit in his room and wait for her second coming…she’d left him years ago…round Christmas time when the cold had set in and everyday was overcast…black and white…like an old photograph…

looking out windows…he could see the Mexicans goin’ into church and cars cruisin’ down Dewald Street…girls walkin’ home with backpacks and old women pushing grocery carts…kept wonderin’ if he’d see her…that woman who came into his life and made a mess of it…made him think of love and family…’bout settlin’ down…gettin’ a trailer on the outskirts of town…she made him think that way…

and one day she told him in a note left on the counter that she was movin’ on…said she wanted to be free after all…free to leave when she wanted to…free to pick up and go without any extra baggage…just her by herself…alone…that’s what she wanted…

so…everyday he’d sit by that window in his rented room and wait for her second coming…he’d look out and watch the trees change colors…see the sun burn out after a long day…catch the moon’s glow in the midnight hour…

he’d wait…he’d wait…we’re all waiting…one day she’ll show up…one day…