expectant words tumbling over each other
tripping from one wonder to another,
(why is everything so beautiful?)
drunk on the blue blue sky
spin around upside down sideways falling…
(it was never me)
still lovely but no longer like summer days.
wears sorrow like an oscar de la renta,
sinking into weary bones.
dark glistens under eyes and inside heart.
ruler straight new york streets do not make nearly as much sense
as the arms of midnight boys.
(caught the wrong bus home)