Tomorrow will erase this, you can count on it.
The walk through the narrow hallway like a ghost floats through past
invisible to Richmond in the endless swallow
of PBRs and aggressive twitching to the dj's pulse en masse.
dirt-tanned regulars and their pit-bulls
pretty girls in pretty dresses with crusted eyeliner and forties bottles
tiny shaved dykes with enourmos square glasses in summer dresses
tall tall biker boys tucking their hands in the straps of their backpacks for alcohol supplies watching over the crowd
baby faced freshmen intently sucking cigarettes in a rehearsal of rough times
She's a busy city that never cleans.
She has a place for me... somewhere amid the piles of dorm furniture and Old South knick knacks from the sidewalk sale reigning half-packed half-unpacked
my favorite meals and a stack of old essays.
moss over brick
window pane molding
my old windows
away from the house down the street we had carried a rat playing dead in the trash can
i made coffee in the kitchen
my bed had my scent
couch is sold
church bells ring old and true 3 pm
She has drugged me with sun
ready for strolls, a cat on each porch, She is mine for the day.
She is mine for the night. She is mine for a sentence, the damned tease.