The moment I left New York and never returned

Not that long ago
I woke up furious
at the blue light blinking

I wasn’t pissed that the txt
was from my sister—but that
you thought you could get to me
through her—I didn’t even read it
immediately after reading your name
that I buried in my past where it belongs—

The only thing I could remember
other than those cold dead eyes
that I wish I would have seen sooner

Was when you took me on a bus ride
I can’t remember if you lied about job hunting
or this was part of your reinactment
on how to make love stay
you knew it like you’d done it a thousand times
the same route that would be flooded
with a bunch of schoolboys
in uniform all looking almost incestually identical
& you turned to me and said emotionless
that it was your fantasy


7 thoughts on “The moment I left New York and never returned

  1. boozilla

    it’s amazing how you reveal the common thread of pattern and meaning in everything through what might seem to be one quite individual experience. it’s comforting in a kind of incendiary way.

      1. boozilla

        Seems right– sometimes the flames really help and it’s quite something to be able to do that with words. Then it’s like a wave that goes on and on and who knows what being is illuminated by it and helped….er….from a bear’s point of view……

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