she poured brown sugar on top. talked but refused to speak. that.  was her last inhale.  cigars ordained the fountain    and the blue irises diluted.  i expected to see drops.   the ends shriveled up.
    
but we swigged godiva
      
     she said:                                                        
sunday we’ll go to the beach

    i laugh     at first
          the open air was all legs and armpits
          i casually held my palms to my nose
     wine to drown the stench
    
she chatted in infinites


there was only a small bustle. thirteen o’ clock. the canvases were pulled back.  always some glass in our hands. the horses didn’t care, in fact, let us stroke their noses. i still wonder  what they patrolled. we kept drinking.  passed out in a public park.

    i said
    it’ll be concrete jungles
friendship forgotten



                               she woke with leaves                                                           ­ 
                   at her temples    in her tear ducts.
                                                          ­ i typed it
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