I remember us,
Sticky in July -
The humid taste.

Our phantom limbs reflected off of pond ****.
The lake water found its way in and around my
mouth as goldenrod spit took shape as radio waves.

You’d pour liquor on the lawn, and slide through
the *** grass. I’d skin my knees on hot pavement
and write your name out in unruly blood.

Now you're flat-lining in a corner,
Keeping perfect time with the music.
I’m confined to wires, hallucinating you.