we connected on Instagram.
met up by the river.
she said she liked my poems.
we were fucking within the hour.
she was beautiful and crazy.
I gave her one of my books.
told her she would be in the next.
she went down on me in a stairwell.
this isn't the first time.
nor will it be the last.
of stairwells and sentiment.
in a sunny city.
we went to dinner.
pizza and an open mic.
she read a poem about feminism.
I read a poem about hammers.
in Streeterville,
and made out at midnight,
wondering if we'll ever see each other again.
I was heading back to NYC,
she was heading back to LA,
where she had a boyfriend,
but I told her I'd be there next summer.