This New City is a Lot Like the Old

August 6, 2017

I've already grown used 

To these freeway sounds

 

To this new smoke 

Your second hand coming 

 

In through the balcony 

The minutes of night falling

 

Like a spring moon

Crescent in my view tonight

 

You slept on many couches that season 

Sweataching knees and back

 

To some old

Old habits 

 

You thought had been kicked

Pick at the scab

 

Let it run 

 

Rub her legs

from memory

 

Rub out

The past 

 

Oh that cigarrette smoke and 

Hard music and broken bottles

 

Ha the times in that old city you thought

You'd never want to leave 

 

Until you had to 

 

The sound of cars passing again

The drag of the secondhand

 

The dust of habit and longing

The flood gates of drugs and night

 

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