are you afraid of a drunken wasp's mad flight?
while, I am terrified of love at night,
I use a flashlight to catch sight of a confidence
at peace with ceasing under silver cloud,
which is furious with east and all of it
used to live in me, now nada, si diablo.
she'll have me believing in previous poems about crows.
in a triumph no more subtle than singing misery,
I was on fire with where-did-you-go,
and how-you-could-not-know, forked from leaving
and having no choice but to riddle right here.
a custard-colored dream.
let's get out of the cold and stand between
the old you and the old me, just to see
if they notice us under moment holes,
tapping our shoes, drinking nurses and criminals.
after miles in the mirror, my will will stay.
no more falling in love again, because it's not fun,
and I can't remember more birthdays, thirsty
for cookies because of fear makes me crave
chocolate ships docking in the bay of my day,
where the leader of me is a lonely wolf which doesn't matter.