it helps me to fall
into haze in these
moments
of adaptation or just
length, time that has
to pass and my
adjustment to fluctuations
in my general
circumstance or
mood is dependent
on the haze.
i like

fighting, I smile.
I have a few blocks to go
and every man is facing me
so I just step into the haze.

I remember this
one day where I met you
to get a Slurpee to
cool off for a while.
your face was most open
outside
drenched,
you tried to hug
me but I am

closed,
drenched in day old
bourbon sweat,
show up unshowered and
in a deep swallow;
a persisting contrition
coated in plum wine,
whatever else I just said,
Bourbon,
I wave my hands over the glass.
that was last night.

that was last night and it
was pretty bad.

but we sit side by side
like it’s something
non-contagious about me.
well except when you smile,
he said.
but I blush and I couldn’t
stand that so I
focus on my knees
remembering
what it felt like
under sheets
and I fell open.
then there’s my brother.
your hard edged smile
on the top of a frosted mug:
ubiquitous half smirk.

“I used to be in love,”
I say suddenly
and luckily,
the street is quiet,
empty.
I’m only two blocks
from home, frozen
on the sidewalk.
I wake up like that
sometimes
in the middle of Kensington.
“August pt 2.”