When soft rain sifts like manna through nightfall
I wish them well, old lovers, wish them all well.
As ice cubes melt in the closed bar’s highball,
reluctant memory, I wish them well,
I wish them all well. While my hot shower
clears tainted pores, drains stained water like lost
hope to some distant pool flexed with power
of chemical purity, mute to cost
of future races, I wish them well, I
wish them all well. When Mars’ frozen moisture
cakes into small mounds, burns earth scientists’ eyes
bright as coals, offers survival tincture
of space, a final place humans might propel,
I wish them well, old lovers, wish them all well.
Roger Armbrust
November 24, 2011
