making my escape

the opening of the day is golden
crimson burning through and i
taste private metered segments of
it collected through previous hours
and on the remembered texture of a
new tongue in brooklyn
i'm the bottom bit of the last beer of the night
spun in my mouth before
licking handwriting into you and
down your neck
or not
maybe didn't happen

hours of the day colored and
repurposed by disintegrating spurs
of the moment meet me here
along the long dark street where i
once lived and rarely visit
always recalled in nighttime as if
daylight never weighed it down as
now it hovers heavy and sacred
always in bronze twilight
always hollowed out and wet with
summer air
always the same bar

with the same space in the back
i'm late to find you and your one
drink grin mellifluous and easy
when i sit down we are away from
those next to us
later on i am thinking that we are
farther away
we waver stray

abandoning laconic clues to me
where the fabric is softer and
warmer underneath it your
voice raspy and leading

farther away i don't meet you
or never have
or have
or never thought to come
not really looking for anything
nothing really found or surrendered beyond
roundabout glances and the feel of
old streets pivoting near
hair pushes away softly and
gives
walking through the shameless
laughter of late night basketball skirmish
pausing and giving ourselves to
calm
until the breeze is too close to you
as now it hovers heavy
i could walk endlessly like this
dreaming and not sure and
next to you and afar
the proximity of you and the old
neighborhood and my own
footsteps cascade reassuring
echoes as the season dies slow

headlight eyes scurry and scare the
shadows down the avenue
i find myself in step with them and
join their
road
to
leave