I contorted my ocular nerve to
make up words with you.
so that we could be
a summer rain or
whatever it was you were
say while I was smoking.

I lost a god and ride on the city scraper,
they sky piercers and wind caller-
round my throat forcing me to
carry my song-
in the wrong tune.

(I treble where my base is)
this is not me asking you to call.
I just understood something
for the first time today.

my heart falls to my knees to
escape your gaze and I
don't answer your calls.

the things you hand me are broken.