lavender over blue twilight and peach over that
Crossed with damp lacquered black branches
shimmering snow and glassphault-
that’s where You’re From
from a city (or lack thereof) stitched from straw and oil
but you were born far away
in a similar city
one where you still chose the laundry detergent (as mom is no mother)
and chose the crunch of white gravel and dry clay
and chose yes (or so you said)
And from that we came together -
to sit in a fake-atmosphere’d coffeeshop (presweetened yes, ristretto no)
with volatile heart-beat-listeners
so warm now to be frozen later -
and split a citrus soda; tangerine, effervescent, floating in glass
into two waxy paper cups
rest
-ing
with the others.
You dropped the glass bottle into a grimy abyss,
it broke, the glass, and your iris, about it;
Laughing
and Never
Knowing
Why