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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