thinking about the night we spent in the patchy grass
with the dry soil rubbing from the earth
onto our clothes
leaving its mark on us
as we left our mark on each other
i begin to feel unwelcome in my own body
and long for an escape
a chance to become someone else
like the long-legged femme with her mouth open
sending out
blue smoke rising in plumes
rising to heaven like a prayer from the mouth of a ******
with Wilde tattooed on her wrist and his rough pink hand on her shoulder
and her shoes: muddy slip-ons with holes worn through
and his eyes, telling me i have worn out my welcome
so i leave
and i find you
alone in a booth by the window
looking ruefully into the black depths of your big white mug
and i go to you; let you slip your fingers through mine
and again we find ourselves as before
endlessly intertwined.