Adam

I thought I saw Adam the other day
in the side mirror of a rusty
blue pick-up truck.  It wasn't him.

Then a flock of blackbirds flew fighting
one another from lawn to treetop.
Their hostility made me feel lonely.

I was going to call you, but all you have
is a cell phone and I don't want to talk
while you're deciding what vegetables

you want on your turkey club
on whole wheat at Subway.
We haven't spoken in months.

I don't blame the vegetables, it's
my hang up.  I don't blame the blackbirds either,
even though they're clearly following me.

They've just arrived next door.
Our cats will take care of them.
Where does Adam live now anyway?