New Patient

If you have read my poems you know

I am a man who rides trains facing backwards,

which is how I read books of poetry,

last poem first, the way I will read

the lesions on your arms

like lines from a tattered timetable

as we follow your tracks

back to that sunrise at the station

when your creases were sharp

and your wallet bulged with big bills,

her perfume clinging to your collar,

your dark eyes dancing down a line

toward a future you never imagined

would include this morning with me.