still suffer me.
stay there,
the past running over
like the foam of a beer.
I take a shotgun van ride
over the Williamsburg Bridge.
everything,
the sleeping mourning
and the forgotten future.
catch a cold,
dance a salsa dance.
meantime,
I will be here
eating walnuts and blueberries.
I'm moving back
to healing.
a piece of art,
most of the buildings,
pulled from my sometimes.
my ex-lovers
are moving on.