I knew you were in love with her from
the sounds of your feet, chasing her

down the stairs at 11:15pm on a Tuesday
night. No one who has hate in their heart

chases anyone down the stairs anymore.
Not since they were kids, at least. When

the risk of falling face first, chin hitting each
step on the way down, wasn't enough to keep

you from sliding down them, your vessel,
an old plastic laundry basket packed with

couch cushions. Diving for loose change to
shell out like lint from the laundromat

to buy another pack of cigarettes from the
circle K that never asked for your ID.

Play it again: the circle shall not be broken
or will remain unbroken, or how many times

have you listened to it by now. it is 7am.
Your favorite record, you found in your late

fathers storage unit, in a place where you
were hoping to find a friend.