I would leave him in an airport
I would leave him in the middle of the night after we made love;
he would wake up with my sweat in his mouth coughing from the staleness.
I would leave him on a wednesday after our usual
dinner of dead air and suffocating space.
I would leave him on a train
I would leave him in the ocean,
swimming off to some distant island and he'd write
long verses about his vanished lover
and I could live on in books and song.
Most of all
I'd leave him in the street and blend into the crowd
like a bird in a flock
migrating for the winter.