Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Jesse West II

I encountered you
at 4:37 p.m.
on the last day of June

somewhere I wasn’t expecting.

I daydreamed
past the nausea I usually feel
the first six seconds
when I see you.

A comforting old friend,
Nausea,

because it means
my eyes and heart
are swimming
circles around you

wishing different moons
were above us;

a moon that sweetly drags
you
with the tide
upon my dark shore.


But here
under this moon;

our wretched
patronizing moon

I am screaming
at windshields

decaying exponentially
faster than you

sleeping unsoundly
insomniatic

without you

on another

black cloud.


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