Ghost Town

I wonder where I came from

this is not the same companion.
It was close to a dream

but it’s over.
Now is the longest I’ve been

without one; I almost

I would take myself out to the pier.
It was the people stranded

they lit from above and below.
The screen

door opens slightly, a tourist

Winter Wave

An illness flexed between us. Is there no sense in you no sense in which I am

simultaneously tenuous and unworried.

You previously said, There is no back-sense of time. There are no rights com-

promised with desire. Was it that felt

nice. To be called you on the phone. Were I retained like a good enough guest

like your fever having stepped into

mine. An endoscopic light branches into backrooms. Where I caught your last

feeling for the text
needled among us