the sushi crumbles
as I poke it
with a fork

dusk
my date with the clay
just begins

my shoulders rise
to my ears
along with the stress

She laughs
Not for humor
But the sake
Of not crying

twirled around my fork
a hair of the angel
dangles over the thick sauce

no food provided
on the weekends
cereal it is

zebra umbrella
shelter from
a wild storm

impossible
light a cig in midnight wind
and existential mania

sleeping bags
plentiful amount of tents
stars twinkling

thin dorm walls
midnight on a thursday
I hear singing

in the midst
of monochrome
she radiates color

so much to say
opening mouth
. . . silence

red couch
New York City
there for you