come back to Brooklyn,
because you forgot your flowers.
sure, all the raspberries had mold,
but we made blueberry pancakes instead.
aren't you ever curious,
she said,
what might've been?
yeah, I say,
I have a few of those same questions
all over my past.
we will talk again in a future soon,
me from my madness, you from your pacific blue.
let's share a cigarette and silent moment,
pancakes for the table, our legs touching underneath.
you coward, you hummingbird,
keep leaving so you can keep coming back.