He is
Where no light finds its way through
My apartment windows,
where it smells of cigarette ash and his.
Smack dead
in the middle of my conversations
Taking up too much
space
with my furniture and books.
Watching the TV (too loud)
with all the lights off.
The leaves and blossoms
I used to sweep out from the second
Floor every other week (sometimes).
A new piece I did that I could never email to you
Because everything I send has a virus.
An incomplete studio space that we
hide in together
Because I’m afraid of hurricanes.
(while you turn down the radio as I fall asleep on the counter)
Sleeping in my bedroom without a shirt on.
Hanging up the phone before I could say goodbye.
A Ginsberg poem I read only once.
A house with no architect;
only floor plans with
An estimate of how long that body
Has been lying in the hallway.
A project site that I would go to and measure the walls.
An affair with other women.
A last drink then we’re going home
(but I would leave you and walk instead)
A knock on my door
Driving too slow, and I want to go home.
Leaving me to wait in the schoolyard until 7pm.
4 dogs that escaped through the fence while I wasn’t looking.
And I am
A 7 year old in a bar soaking wet/sandy feet, standing over you
Begging to stay a little longer...
