.



was it louis armstrong’s raspy voice
or your elegant anatomy scratching
record grooves into my vinyl spine?  

my left hand, a nervous needle
twittering upon the wasteland;
my tongue skipping zigzags  
across your conversation.

did you dance because it was
somebody’s wedding, tell me
this song was your favorite
because we trundled like freight
trains, say my hair looked nice
    because it wasn't?


still, i felt electric.


    now why is it i think
    of you nineteen years later,
    nose-choked, soap-eyed,
    bated breath in bathwater?  

    i don’t know where you are, who
    you’ve loved, the children you’ve lost,
    or the gods you’ve won.

    you are useless to me, an unplugged radio:
    for i cannot hear our song's humbug buzz
    imbue my body.  so, i have another

crackling between my legs.





.