, ,

I first got lost in you
before I met you
and I had to come back to see
what a place looks like
without you in it
before I found the rogue pieces
of your permanence inside me

and maybe it sounds like a riddle
but it was even harder
to sort out back then

when your name was tangled up
in the street grids and all
accident-prone intersections
and I’ve often mistaken
your body for feelings
and my desires
for truth

open this door
stand with me on the sidewalk
they are watching us
I don’t care kiss me

when conquest is half
about ego
and half a revelation
in distances

because it doesn’t feel like circles
when your eyes are closed
but dead ends are such
tempting, poetic things,

and wouldn’t you agree,

when you were getting lost with me
and our cocktail of confessions
kept making the nights darker
and the sunrises nothing
but shared debris
and we’re the same,
we’re the same,
we kept telling that sign
we’d passed for the third time
and we could always go back
whenever we wanted to

that was the smallest lie we told

I left handprints of my naked
song on your turntable
I’m the jealous mistress of
your razor-sharp fantasies

I’d felt worried about the taxi
that had brought me here
and hoped he found his way out
and didn’t miss his turn
the way I did

this shit is confusing
and the whole world is drunk
half of the time

but oh, the music
and the kissing
and the now, the now,
our fragile empire

and conquest
being the sparkliest riddle
of a Friday night.

From the feature on Touché Hombre Eléctrica
by author Rob Wilkes


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