We were tracing out lines on our palms
On the balcony at Elgin St.
She said “Never look back, you’ll be wrong
If you ever leave your bed this week.”
Not as quick as I have ever moved from the backlit room
I rose above my feet.
Took the floor.
She went home.

It was never that bad that I wanted
A signal flare to get out of there.
There are junkies in baths soaking long.
Never breathe again, send me out of my head.
And the neon street lights at the window
Are noir as all the Bogart I have been
Searching for
Ever long,

In a Fedora.
With Ray Bans and a smoke.
Looking longingly
For Casablanca
Play it over…

She needs the sting
Of a lighthouse light to get home tonight.
She is feeling through time like a fog
For the barges of summer demigods
But it never works out like she wants
It collapses in a heap like all the leaves
At our
Front door.

I want no more
Than to sink in this shredded cheek, foam bliss.
She is singing out like she is cold
But the sweat, it drips from her closed eyelids.
And he wants nothing more than to hold her close
But he holds me closer. We
Figure out our way home.
And we all worry so.