the port, black and shimmering
what’s the difference between a pier and a dock?
something about our faces, familar
something about dimples
bikes, birds and blue ribbons
all that stuff we hate to love
IPAs half empty or half full
you made me forget how to dance
bodies as temples
a new tongue
thank you for the memory
Lastnight we were at a party in a dream. We stepped outside and you lit up a cigarette of horseradish.
It was winter and summer at once. I hopped over little piles of snow, crunching ice. It was a beautiful day, and a clear night. We ducked and slid under a porch and crouched in the cool dirt. Sun and grass poked through the spaces between the wood, we were hidden away from the bustling neighborhood. I touched your arm. Your skin was golden and soft. You look fit, I said. You told me you’d been having sex on top of books. It’s been so long, ten years. We’re completely different people I suppose, I smiled and sat with my back against the house. You looked at me, so familiar. You leaned in to kiss me, laughed and our teeth clanked together.
I woke up this morning and a piece of my tooth had chipped off.
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