Jaywalking in Providence

Past the abortion clinic,
to the place where
time freezes.
Our hair curling in the
rain,
flip flops slipping.
I should have taken your picture
while you drank honeysuckle
for the first time.
The next time we are
Cemetery Detectives,
I will let you have
Tragedy,
and take
Comedy away with me,
hidden in my camera.

intake

Aren’t you the black hole
into which I throw things
that never land,
and never bounce back?
My words don’t echo,
I let you steal my
every apology,
they lay like velvet
in the smooth pocket
of your mouth
before you swallow them down–