the city was slick with all the things we hadn’t seen and for the first time since fall, i felt light. the snow that covered everything from here to east jesus washed it all away.
except for the
flourscent-lit walmart we walked through that night
with your fist knotted like a chord around my chain
when you held me against the light
and i begged for you to see
the days get shorter,
the shadows grow longer
the shadows grow longer
the shadows grow longer
i’ve got nothing left to prove
nothing left to forget
but the marks on my neck
and your kiss, young and cruel
and the telephone wires
that got disconnected and
hung limp across the dresser
and the end that never quite
ended
