800 East

Punctured walls from blistering fists
I hang the painting over the hollow
You stab the canvas with a fork
And say, There. It’s done. 

We are never lonely here

Just tired
JUMP! You shout, so I do
We all fall down
And I have never seen anything so handsome as that sky

Except for maybe you

In the basement of that bookstore
my heart jammed, STOP!
Like a fateful telegram
Like the last stroke of an antiquated clock

Ticking, ticking
I have rearranged the photographs
and decided that
I cannot be without you
STAY! I shout, and you do