I had stopped smoking, but being around you again,
and the past and all it’s illness and missed opportunities,
I smoking like I used, like a freight train, one after another.
No beer or booze or even wine though, now. Just pots and pots
of piping hot black coffee, as we talk about The Hellhoud hunting us,
and The Demons that we cannot dislodge for our hearts.
And we talk of hope, some mad desperate push to win the day,
for the whole world not to burn in greed and arrogance, that love
might win it all in a lucky spin, like we always hoped it would in our youth.
We find a hipster radio station, from the state college 50 miles away from here,
that might as well be the moon, so far from this dying town, closed storefronts,
too many empty houses, and no dreams left to kindle bonfires beneath the stars.
It’s a love song, lovelorn and despairing, and it’s one you loved in our youth,
some once hot shit band past it’s prime and any popularity, just a footnote,
just that one song loved, like that one good story I have that I always tell strangers.
And like in our youth, in that one perfect night, the time you gifted me with my one good story,
we slow dance, and softly turn on bare feet on dirty floorboards, your head on my shoulder,
my face buried in you dark hair, full of the scent of strawberry shampoo, smell of hope, innocence.
And then, like before, we make love.
We are shivering under the covers, and in each others arms. It’s the end of September, and the cold
is coming, and the stars grow brighter but the sun grows dimmer, and all our dreams our dormant
until spring comes again, and we make believe they’ll come true.
I kiss you softly. I kiss your lips. I kiss your brow. You giggle when I kiss the tip of your nose.
Our breath is ashes and the sweetest bones in the galaxy. Like a dragon I feed on your ashes.
Like a dragon, and therefore your champion, Queen of the Moon, I slay every knight errand on principle.
The cold is coming. The sky is clear in the coming bitterness. Will you let me stay this time.
Will you tell me to go, like every time before, from graduation, to that Perfect Night, to the Breakdown.
I rather fight demons in the snow by your side, then be alone again, in Miami’s so called paradise.
And then, as morning breaks, we make love again.
And then, we finally sleep.