LET’S GET LOST

old stories about Chet
Pannonica in her benz
your heritage food is popcorn
mine’s potatoes i dive for them
in the garden soup 
shower in salt mash with oil
i’m never bored
posing for photos
bones that catch the 
romantic light
charisma pastis
imagination is funny
when i was younger
there was always someone
to drive me to the show 
black rain, still my city 
what about all the affairs 
no one ever finds out about
are they still wrong?
sometimes guilt feels like a 
bound bird inside you, 
other times it’s the missing accent
to the stew
bare mattress wine in a 
camping cup
we cared for each other
good at getting lost 
cozy with the
sympathy con
pretty in glasses 
soft voice like 
warm milk 
like heroin 
a woman’s neck
beautiful unbreakable
bamboo stalk
everytime we say goodbye
people really go through hell
and there’s nothing
finer