Holding Together Of
My girlfriend's neck and a friend with a ball, deflated.
Going anywhere. (Going nowhere.) Google Street View. Turning right. Minor chords. Moonlight.
Let's betend we're married but you're on that side of the fence and me, this.
&, & we're still here in the bleeding moon.
If today we could be both thinking of the way things meet other things
The dark undercarriage would still be full of greasy moving parts
And the lies we tell each other would still be real and dripping
The stuff that washes down gullies and gutters.
No thinking like a mix tape
Because the stuff that drips down us is minus the guts
But the people here are very nice, still
Dark strangers on various hills.
But between you and I
And the walls and the posters and the sills and
The protons and the neutrons and the bowling alleys
The stuff will not come apart easily.