you’re in d.c. now and you never think about me I mean why would you

want to make small cuts

on the soft parts of the back of your knees

it’s warmer

than it was three hours ago

but the night!

is still wet

it rubs

against my cheek

my head in your neck

bike leaning against the car

wreckage

no one can see

they’re explaining French politics

on the radio and I’m

thinking about fig spread that isn’t yours

spitting up pain pills

into a trash can on 1st and Oltorf

accordions for legs

my love

I know now

why things that are sweet are heavy

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