As I near the intersection

As I near the intersection,

the ghosts of love linger in

their heavy cloaks.

Here is where Mel and I pushed a dying car.

Here is where I snapped photos with Donna.

Here is where I tried to play the uke with Linda.

Mel, Donna, Linda

—the names are now just words

and distortions of something

deeper,

something good;

something

ultimately

doomed.

The failure of the words to represent the love

like the failure of my heart to cultivate the love;

it is a heart that’s tried to throw the sword down

but still meets with the ghosts

of dead intersections,

each of us cloaked

in our own

heavy

burden.