~expostulate
notice the nicotine stains on
his fingers, his teeth
as if a high school cigarette
she should have snuffed at
sixteen
he's eight hours late
and has too many lies
combed through his hair
too many songs tucked
in his back pocket
and he stands there
old black eyes, dulled
like lightbulbs
burnt out by the storm
she's sober as an empty
shot glass when
she unbuttons her skin
hangs it in the symmetry
of shadows
beside last april and two
blue raincoats
this wet night will vibrate in
her hand but the cold will
suit her fine
lah 2.18.17 ©®
13
1
4