I'm sitting on a couch in
a two bedroom first floor
apartment in Cambridge,
Massachussetts. I took a
plane out, a direct overnight
flight yesterday from California
and arrived at 5am local time.

You say you've got shit on
your mind. You want me
to call you. I cried and
stopped crying and got dressed
and finished Ask the Dust
and walked across the street
and bought a cup of coffee
for a dollar. The coffee was
good and I sat on the
porch smoking a cigarette.
The air is thick and muggy
and still and I blew thin
slow rings into the morning
heat. I can't face you. I
am in love.

thirteen minutes later.

my swollen eyes and throat
thick skin browning under
my shirt sleeves. two bulges at the
side of my throat.
sweat gathers on my neck and face, pouring into my
lips and teeth. i smile
hard into the sun. retreat
into the furnace of the subway.
smiling girls in their twenties.
grim faced men in suits
clutching handrails. don't
leave me now. not now.
in four days i'll be in new
york city. there you can break my heart.
that would be fine.