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your hands
seem as playful
as goldfish
in a milk jug,
but i'm only ever
eating the walls again,
privy to the noises
that beggers make
when running by.

i have this stencil
of jesus
whiskeyed out
on a park bench,
spilling nickles
like daydreams
out onto the broken
turin pavement.

i've been looking
for you.

you flittered
unspoken promises
into my life
with the air
of orange peels
& poetic silence
about you.

you were a new scene
unto the shuttering
philosophy
street goddess.


i watched
as you tipped the ocean,
martini-like
into an open pocket
of fuzz,
eyes distant
like lost
in vintage dreams...

i could almost
give up reason
for two more fingers
of high-maintenance love