The lazy cyanide twist of cello strings meant
something to you. I'm not sure what, but it fixed the summer-
evening stakes like a cheating bookie, all Jersey-mouthed
& nightly. "Eternal" is such a nothing word, but if it weren't,
I know how I'd use that immortality; pair it with sweet serpentine &
crackling foil, making violence into sex addiction that wasn't meant to
make me feel dirty, not at all. In some countries they'd call what you
did to me a simple French kiss; I think of it as a sucker-punch.

This little city with its howling trains, grassy parks,
smudged graffiti &cool darkness was beautiful with you,
if only for an hour or two.