it takes 8 hours and 1 minute to get to Gansevoort Street
they say to truly love someone
you must know them through all four seasons
barricaded branches prevented you from coming February 6th
black leather interior seemed like the perfect place
to evaporate
like a cigarette outside Baby Huey
punch holes in your arm like a belt
so a finger can’t trace it
without being caught
hornets under Dixie cups
razored wings carve out this body
phantom knee, nerve extension
push your thumb into its stump
regret pushing the willow
walking the length of dead grass to a childhood hub
a reminder of which sits on your bedside
as an 8-year-old pilot
spearheading a UAV to TOR
Dundas Square sees you in an amber light.