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catharine-mary-batsiosPoems
I'll see you around, but                                     not again on this empty floor, the two of us in blankets, slept on our clothes, woodgrain just out of reach. Waiting at the station, the 5 a.m. trolley home, hands wrapped around my fare, There's some memory of a dingy lastnight bar where we chain-smoked through the muted stop-motion of late-night, whiskey breath and fingertips, tracing the side of a face, the ends of nerves, lost in the traffic river crowd footfall, at some patio latenight coffeehouse, we were cinematic, mysterious under the mercury lights that lit the sidewalk, that staged us full, small, like hands wrapped around a cup with our name on it.
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Oct 29, 2011
Oct 29, 2011 at 10:05 PM UTC
One Night Stand
I'll see you around, but                                     not again on this empty floor, the two of us in blankets, slept on our clothes, woodgrain just out of reach. Waiting at the station, the 5 a.m. trolley home, hands wrapped around my fare, There's some memory of a dingy lastnight bar where we chain-smoked through the muted stop-motion of late-night, whiskey breath and fingertips, tracing the side of a face, the ends of nerves, lost in the traffic river crowd footfall, at some patio latenight coffeehouse, we were cinematic, mysterious under the mercury lights that lit the sidewalk, that staged us full, small, like hands wrapped around a cup with our name on it.
catharine-mary-batsios
Written by
catharine-mary-batsios
American
Oct 29, 2011
Oct 29, 2011 at 10:05 PM UTC
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