last year

calendar pages stuck together
like new-born eyelids
or early mornings, moments glued by sunlight:
the confusion of new beginnings
the harness

love letters i forgot to open
prayer flags dripping to the floor in colorful puddles
of oil slicked sunlight the grease of dreams
under our feet
miles passing in new york minutes
tall buildings pulling high as weeds

under rivers tunnels thick as veins
pump in and out of the heart
labeled L and J
the east river of alphabet soup
we search
as if our eyes did not see each other
through the new york anatomy
scaffolding things together
and calling it growth-

“everyone is damaged here” you tell me
and i see
the reason we left or stayed
is some fault line like caifornia earthquake indicators
squeezed into palms holding silver subway poles
and black escalator arms rolling like big tires
in loops and loops

we walk.
from delancey to 14th street and back
my mind
setting that groove like thin bicycle tires
and cabs and cars and trains

if i could just turn upside down
the sky would ooze everywhere
even into last year-