Burt Lancaster

I walk into the night.
nicely alone.
text my friend Chris.
who is in Atlanta.
at a rock show.
with a girl. 

I am tired.
grow bored with texting.
look up.
kiss the crawling purple clouds.
between me and you.
between you and the moon. 

I check my email.
nothing from LA.
I make a list.
call bookstore tomorrow.
after Israel assignment.
after lots of coffee and poetry.