our old footsteps

smeared fading luminesence

my heart’s fixed eyespots

smoking vigil in the cold

looking north

i got you a chai

so many sandwiches eaten alone

milkshakes and anhedonia with Ghandi

time with G promises to cede back parts of Me.

Eat. Drink. Ghandi. Wait.

This place has been here longer

than our lifetimes added up

We walk over graves going to work.

The history is impressive.

but still

i wonder

will this ever grow old?

every season has it’s own story of knowing us:

cursing the cold, delighting at snow and fat insulated babies

we rushed to meet spring on stimulants, as if to out-spring it

in the summer, scurrying into tunnels, you nearly crying from the ambush of rain.

i wanted to watch the lightning.

and then glowering and silent as the dead leaves that watched us 

Back to the ground, the present, the canvas beneath

All those wads of flattened gum and dessicated filters, even the pigeon shit,

and the hawk that missed me that day

all that uncoiled DNA, immeasurable or miles laid end to end

lifeless against the recollection of one clove kiss