Revisionist Poetry – Don’t Fall in Love, v.2

Rain runs past the lamppost at night
and lands, apologetic, on my white canvas shoes.

Genesis hums in my earphones—
a low machine-thrum that vibrates my skull
and does nothing for my mood.

People pass me by, one after another,
on their busy errands to nowhere that matters.

She says she still can’t love me.
Maybe she’s lying.
Maybe life will have to go on.

Why do I never know?