“Love usually does,” he said.
A red flash of something
Allowing for wind
He clapped his hands.
His heart beat so loudly he could not hear her speak
In the back of a garbage truck
My gray brother
No problems down here
Now he was smiling, “Well, piss off, then!”
Now it is far away
She danced on to his mouth
She felt as if she’d been out a month.
She knew she could do without this.
Among the dead cities
She told him she’d live with her loss.
She turned her collar up and ducked back into the day
Six blind men taking in the evening
The barman steered them to a whispy-haired old codger in the corner
The guy in the suit is a clerk
The masks didn’t protect them.
The night collapses at 2 AM
The time when the rat-people emerge
Them’s dusky types: South Americans and ayrabs
This is how the night takes us
This is the safety-catch
This should not be rushed.
This was going to be a bad weekend
You will have heard this before, often