i excavated through piles of clippings
different textures absorbed the images differently.
some paper let the colors fade,
other glossed over
like an unfailing memory.

she had an unfailing memory.

i never meant to close the gate on you,

i heard you sing about it somewhere.

i thank you for letting me escape.
but can only say so much
when we meet at the bars now.

i can offer you a warm glass of affection
but that is it.

as long as you promise
we can talk about it again.
when we aren't drunk.

i'm talking
to myself
again.