a girl sits on the pavement,
lunch in hand
wondering what kind of times they were
-neither the best nor the worst of times,
but times spent at a coffee shop
watching the cars go by.

as the rain falls
-as it always falls at 2 am,
steady and calming
a world in limbo
despite all of the chaos that i so lovingly
call mine.

the birds aren’t out yet,
but the cars softly flash their lights
i shouldn’t be here
this desolate city,
mine,
this desolate life,
mine.

the plants sway softly,
ever their vibrant green and your cat meows
-the only thing along with your short hair
and scrolling habits
and off-feelings
you’ve been able to keep alive this winter.

lone figures in the winter,
at your desks -alone in class
smiling at a laptop,
the papers on your bedroom floor flutter around you
wind in my rooms,
slashes on the push floor.

slashes -also on the peaches
nectarines
fingertips (from falls)
coffee cups in empty cafes
and unthinkably
blueberries.

all of our photographs,
a poet said they would happen,
waiting to happen,
i think they’re right and
they’ll never happen
-it’s the kind of beauty arranged and taken down,
never enjoyed.

it's a late night drive
down a foggy street,
completely empty and
illuminated by the
soft glowing sign of an
underhead street light.  

neon juice
flows through your veins.  
the world
forgets how to spin.  
the trees
are still and
the engine roars.  

somewhere,
everything falls into place for someone.

All the ghosts / who never sinned

Are gossiping up in heaven again

They say Michael has been visiting Lucifer’s wings again

They say it’s the anniversary / it’s a spring ritual

From when Michael cast off his own dark parts

And Lucifer abandoned his angel wings  

-

The grave / in modern day / is now half lit by the Denny’s open sign

Buzzing like neon only half the lights are broken

And Michael himself

Is half shadowed by his cigarette / he tells himself he’s not sinning

Because this drug isn’t against the law / and he can’t ever **** himself

-

The drag pulls at the place humans have hearts

And it hurts like a flaming sword

His hand hasn’t stopped shaking / by the time he breathes all the tar out

He breathes out again and again / like there might still be smoke in his lungs

And is he wrong?

-

All the humans / who were sinning when lucifer fell

Were gossiping on earth

And Michael’s hearing the story again / through the ***** Denny’s window

Some kid who lives off / ego / drugs / and subreddit pages

Tells another around a mouthful of pancakes

“When Lucifer fell he cried and his tears scared his face,”

And Michael who couldn’t watch then / doesn’t know if this rumor is true now

And the other kid in the booth / thinks the boy is a philosophical genius

Just grins around his own pancakes and drugs / says “everything tastes like chalk.”

-

Michael’s stuck on asphalt

Digging his toes hard into his shoes and / his whole foot lays flat pushing into the ground

But he wants to take his own head off

To let it spin away

Or maybe he just needs to lose pieces of himself / let the roses blooming beneath the skin

Cut away at the bone until he’s bleeding enough to be mortal

And sit with the two kids who don’t know themselves