you know that I can’t contend

with those flying jets.

but I will walk with you

through brick and smoke

I will talk with you

through brick and smoke

I will be with you

through brick and smoke

even when you think

there is someone else.

because there is always

someone else

to be thought of;

loved. lamented. loathed.

lucky to have gotten away

before you became

an agoraphobic arachnid

luring. lying. lunching.

I may have enough blood

left in me to swipe

at you with a

tooth and nail remark

but I’m choosing

to be still

until I have completely

withered here

and there isn’t anyone else

because there never was

anyone else

except for our deluded selves

killing each other

with the sex

of poets.