I married the night, or rather
We did. Fists clenched. Pleather and
Cigarettes outside speaking
Mindless drivel. We were
The ones who fooled each other; but
Then again,
What’s real, anyway?
That’s not it. That’s not it.
A mild opinion laid down like gospel.
An ornamental aside.
What’s this difference between us?
We hang our jackets up at home.
We shove them back into some crowded closet. We quit smoking and
Learn to cook. We hum a tune sung long
Ago, stowed away deep
In our DNA like a film score, and the
Thin lines make art out of the
Dishwashing.
