Wednesday, June 13, 2012

it haunts

the lights are white
making the clouds passing by
look like smoked ellipses.
In a garden
on Elizabeth Street
at twilight
I thought of Copenhagen
and warehouses
and yellow painted chairs
a note scrawled on the gate
I remember you from the future.
There’s a little bar I know
on the sixth floor
you can get as drunk on you want
bum cigarettes
you’ll say
whoever you are
at two
I didn’t know
the lights turned off
and then you’ll kiss me.
Asking for my bed
telling me
it’s been so long
I believe you.
from a dream
we’re in the car
was it danishes in Los Feliz that day
or croissants?
I can’t shake the thought
it haunts 
I shouldn’t be here.

(Photo from cdixon tumblr) 

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