In an urban dreamscape, she kisses

your friend full on the mouth.

His lips collapse from the pressure
of it all. Forget the zero:

the naught, the cipher, the absence.
We passed that exit days ago.
The road blurs into a four square game

chalked before the next rain comes.
They read from your torn copy
of Moby Dick by candlelight
not because they want to,
because they have no choice.

Flattened or exponential,
six feet away or she feels your breath
burn a hole in her neck,
the haunting has just begun
to touch your face
the way these lines collide.
Six feet away or six million plus
between her home and yours.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s