In the back of a polish bar we sat

Smoking a foreign brand of cigarettes my lips had never touched
smoking until we ran out.

Me, pretending to be eccentric.

coy

laughter

closing the gaps between the continents we were born
surely we will bring pangea back to her glory

This is my favorite song, I say.
grace is serenading me from across the world

we inch closer together
the warsaw wood panels start to cave us in
i have forgotten about everyone else

Palms glide up thighs
wheat beer slides down the tongues
that wait to interlace

i listen to your kaleidoscope of syllables
we, in your native land, speak in my foreign tongue
i apologize for that.


we are alone in this room, i think.
the night's corners are creeping in
as quickly as our bodies braid.

            our warszawa flame flickers.