black trenchcoat
tiny breasts cupped
what's the hurry, baby?
all of this for the lost cause of love?

a sweatstained apartment
wrenching detachment from your tiny fingers
Miss Oriental Eyes
Miss Buttercup, Palm Springs, Waiting
dried up like the leaves you rush
foul as manmade lakes
square, forgetting the auburn blanket
of cider, not that same hot sphere
this choke won't reach your bones
(it's not that clean)
we're pavement here, but we're still patient

because if spring comes its beauty
will not compare
to the ancient carpentry
of my fleeting fall air

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