and here, here we were, how has it been? to begin again, out there, in the dusk of fall. sitting on the porch i see the chalk lines my daughter has left: tales of anger and boredom: she is her father’s daughter. such rage for all of four. who am i, who am i, i’ve lost her, i’ve lost him, adrift. i am adrift. i am the rift, i am the absence of all that you were.