untitled (‘The sadness is not his tame blue eyes’)

The sadness is not his tame blue eyes
       and his soft grey hair
       and his gentle smile.
The sadness is mine.
The sadness is
       down off the walls, into the boxes
       down from the shelves, into the cases
       out of the drawers, into the bags —
This sadness is a highway.

Pass me your mist,
       these careful eyes,
reach out once, crossing a distance.

Name my highway.
Name my highway.

Bare wall.
Inert paint on a bare wall.
I am so sad
Oh wall
I am so sad.