i heard you might be here
and maybe,
i’m waiting for the smoke to clear,
to see you across the street
legs crossed where the knees meet

big sweater, big weather
up above the clouds, lookin out
at what keeps the west coast better now,
lost in a paper back
hair fallin lower than her Orchard hat
socks ridin high above those laces
teeth sink into lower lip, you’re into it

a space needle knits stars on dark cotton
while the moon provides the artist
enough light to get lost in
and find himself somewhere outside boston
writing wave swept messages in temporary sand
calling out to the same **** moon we see so often

close to full, yeah so am I
a bite taken by night caught her eye
imperfect wonder painted in the perfect sky
sitting between the stars of tomorrows sight

that’s something for tomorrow’s fight