Tuesday, November 17, 2015


With my ear pressed
into the back of her neck
I heard
          I heard a pulse;

whether ‘twas hers or mine
I do not know

but it was fast and arrhythmic
like cars.

Cars like wasps flailing
about the intersection
          waiting to tell you
          a thing or two about sadness.

And I’m stuck
stuck trying to start my apartment
with my car key.

Three seconds gone,
but goddamn
you’d swear it was four

for counting on you
          I’m counting you on
the walls
walls that have discovered

a tenured footprint

sparkling water will sustain you
better than tap
dance water

but it’s not yet 1
          I’m not yet drunk

you’re not yet fun.