I.
Written a couple of years ago

For a moment she was a beat of nostalgia
disappearing
on the end of his tongue,
then misplaced- like a receipt underneath an ashtray

- or was she replaced?
He gave up smoking
and he's growing orchids now.

II.*
written for my best friend, recently, in response to a poem of his called 'i used to be his man*

Do you remember what time was like
before all of this began,
when I wasn't afraid of sleeping
and you wouldn't want to be anyone's man?