I thought I was his friend
the kind who doesn't know...

You first came across her
at the Amtrak station in Waterloo...

Does love arrive with a storm
or fly onto me with silent grace...

Nor are we slaves of popularity,
prisoners of style and peer pressure...

I'm near the horizon-
staggering, dizzy...

This is how we choose to honor,
how we become devoted...

I'm sorry for disappointing you,
again. And how it's always that...

My cousin's pregnant during a pandemic.
We're the same age. We share the same first name...

You have no need to pull at my arms
and dangle carelessly the strings...

Those antique nights you chose to hoist
me onto your shoulders, stepping on...

If looks could kill then I'd hold
the key to resurrecting...

Lick cinnamon and sugar off fingertips,
finish off the weak pot of coffee...