AT NIGHT, THIS PLACE

IS YELLOW-LIT AND DESERTED,

A STRANGE COMFORT FOR THE PENSIVE,

FOLLY FOR THE HAUNTED.

YOUR NAME

IS ETCHED AT THE BACK

OF MY HEAD,

HIDDEN, IN A GRID,

WHERE MIERZWIAK WOULDN’T

FIND YOU.

AT NIGHT, ATENEO AVENUE

IS YELLOW-LIT AND DESERTED,

I REMEMBER:

"THIS IS WHERE I SAW YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME."


I FLICK MY CIGARETTE AND MAKE UP

A GOODBYE,

LIKE JOEL TO CLEMENTINE,

AND HEAD BACK

TO WHERE

THESE YELLOW LIGHTS

CAN’T FIND ME.