two broken arms
are better than
one broken heart.
of all the ways
I have missed my aim
loving you was fine.
afternoon alliteration
of bloody boogers
in the backseat of a Buick.
then the restaurant
we go to
twists us in the back.
and I would trade
one thousand nights
for one day with you in Union Square.
where cigarettes remember
more than me
and time goes less than far.
there is a bug in my beard
and comedy conquers
and I I I I I I.