malheureusement
pardon me
he’s really into coaching the women
we’re not yet ready to resume our relationship
I love you
too
tunnel, lights, nausea
I can’t hear a word you are saying

tiles glisten, Bonnard underground, mosaic
white and every colour that stop and go can provide
the city is full: it empties us out
Passed the library with barely a glance,
the lions staring indifferent
inside, the painted heavens blazing

They lost to Yale
his girlfriend is there
so now she’s his girlfriend?
He is too young to wear checks such as those
make up for it though with French spoken well,
bien, heureuse, non

The river behind us
the ocean behind us
figurative bodies of water will take us from here
the black a tarry snake in the night
the lake will greet us,
snow on the fir trees
snow on the roofs

The city hulks in the distance
I want it in miniature: wooden blocks at the MOMA
Manhattan in a bag, with cars you can choke on
suitable for children older than four
We draw further away
I miss you,
grey skyline lacking in shadows
heart on the library floor
the street a cathedral of concrete and love

goodbye
not so unhappy
his seat folded back
he sleeps and is quiet