Girl

The bend
The curve hides the end
Moving away but towards another
Sharpening the farther I focus

I knew a girl once
Found
Dazed by the necessity of passage

She turned to go back inside
To get outside
The fingerprints embossing the need

I found it once
The other end
So undefined and small
I printed it on my skin
My fingers folding over the place
again

Joe's

I am there. It is night. The train rumbles in the distance. I question if I were on it, would I feel any different? Instead, I am here. I gulp wine and look at the neon. The guy next to me stares blankly into his whiskey glass. The barman is polishing the glasses, handling them like precious eggs. He sees my eyes, stops, and refills my glass. The reflection is kind. I think of bikes, warm kitchens, hard candy, and them. They have been gone for a while now. I am terrified of losing the only pieces of them that I still have left. I have hazy dreams of things being taken away; a pot, a glass, a button tucked into my jacket pocket. They communicate with me through the things they possessed. In a way, I speak to them now. I wonder how many years the whiskey man regrets.