shiny streets
the warm, wet sidewalk makes my old shoes squeak a black cat guards a neglected garden the matte sky flattens houses into paintings almost spring. who notices?
the warm, wet sidewalk makes my old shoes squeak a black cat guards a neglected garden the matte sky flattens houses into paintings almost spring. who notices?
laundry-scent piped into the street. the ozone- smell of arcing current somewhere couples with matching helmets biking at night my housemate’s midnight lamp-oil
orion poses nude above the naked trees, basking in the moon, sincerest of valentines. isn’t that you, psyche, still looking for your husband?
friends whose birthdays i’ve forgotten seem to appear at perfect moments, to accept the gift of my embarrassment. warm dry night, hug them all for me
i’ve lost the urge to smoke, but then forgotten how to sleep at a decent hour long nights, undramatic, full of soup, slow and still and free