SOMEHOW THIS DIDN’T SEEM LIKE THE CITY WE LOVED ANYMORE

SOMEHOW THIS DIDN’T SEEM LIKE THE CITY WE LOVED ANYMORE

The night unwound. A brilliant flashing

From the mouth, a moon in the crook

Of its arm. We walk the streets looking

For a warm place. There are lovely rooms

Just beyond the glass. From the street we can

See people smiling and are able to admire

The beauty of their garments. They seem to

Glow in the reflections from the silver and

Crystal. They show each other their bright

Weapons and slide the slim bullets into the chambers.

From here we cannot hear their laughter.

There are dreams sweeter than this one.

At least here I can hold you for a moment, never

Mind the wind. At least here I can trace the shape

Of your mouth with my finger and gaze into your

Face. It is as warm as the den of a fox. I push my nose

Into the hollow at the base of your neck and smell

The summer of you, honey in the wheat fields.

When the police got here we were leaning

On the window sill still looking at the ruckus

On the street. Nowadays no one wonders what

They are up to. Surely someone has done some

Wrong and deserves this kind of treatment. I

Watch shadows push shadows into cars full of circling

Red and blue lights. Someone says “Oh God” and then

Asks God’s mother for help. There are sounds I wouldn’t

Want to repeat in a poem. The street is awash with red

Weeping. The party lights shine on. I hold you

In my arms for the longer moment. We agree

Never to learn the words to these kinds of songs.