You enter, and the music stops
Billy Joel’s tenor strains is whipped away
like a thief in the night,
grasping and clasping, the mother load
of all jewels.
he escapes on a camel, and drives into dawn never to be seen again
which was sort of how I thought you were going to disappear
from my life and into the city lights.
slip across the edges of this country, and head towards France
or Sweden or maybe even out of my apartment building.

you enter and people stare; we are at a party
no. no, we’re not. We are alone.
your eyes seize mine, playing target practice on my nerves
and on my heart (now fully deflated, the helium replaced with a nasty neon
and the unmistakable stir of dread)
The loose limbs of your arms can’t hide under your lead colored suit
all brain and bones
but there is a heart there.
yes, here. I trace a path across your rib cage marking destinations we have arrived at
past nights. when the moon swelled and the music shimmered
sounds; an intake of surprise; an intake of joy
full of reds and rainbows, sunsets
simmering in the ocean laced with stars
shivering, as they try to make their way to the shore
(in the eleven o’clock so close to midnight dark).

the song dwindles to an end, but there is no song
just you and i
divided by time
and brought back together
as we, as us
through a party that continues
to orbit the sun
while we continue to dissect one other
galaxies away
Pluto, between us, murmuring her sympathies
for our tragic state
a train wreck that was fated to occur

Heading toward bleeding tracks, lights flickering, as the conductor falls asleep
in the fixed security of his red bricked house, heading no where, hearing nothing
as the train across town spirals to its end
All smoke, and screams
And with nothing to put out the fire.