Ochre Goodbye Poem by Victoria Annette Bailey

I was wasted in Montana,
On a return-ticket home,
I won't return to where I've come from,
And she's heading to Rome.
Coke can in the gutter,
Graffiti on the monument,
We're riding from the victim’s
On our fake accomplishments.
A flick of my hand,
A tear in her eye,
Says this train ride's our last,
Our ochre goodbye.
Downing the bottle,
I head for the door,
She wants to go to Italy,
I've done that before.