In Philadelphia, My Love
We turned the streets of Philadelphia into fighting arenas
when we’d drag our issues from jazz bars and
take them outside, intoxicated.
Some part of that we can blame on tequila sunrises
but we both know most of that was a manifestation of
things we mutually decided were better left
unsaid, until we said them.
Out loud, unnecessarily visceral,
all the more uncomfortable
what with the July heat.
we blamed it on an unparalleled connection.
You’ve never met anyone like me,
I’ve always wanted to meet someone like you
so when it was good, it was good
but when it was bad …
In some outlying part of my mind
I still find this to be true.
In that part, I still wish it was you.
An Ode to Sin
I wish I knew sooner that vindication could never present itself to
people who’ve never sinned.
I wish I knew sooner that whenever our tongues performed
near perfect choreographies to an endless tango in
our mouths; a memory their muscles never forgot
and would shortly enact in a refined fashion, that
it was bliss they were emanating.
There was never anything wrong with falling asleep
in your arms and having your face be
the first thing I see the following day,
I always thought we were sacred
in an unholy way.