Passing in the stairwell,
no eye contact 
nor situational awareness.
Am I not a potential threat;
so evidently housebroken
& tame?

In her billowy wake:
aroma of air freshner,
dryer sheets, fresh kitty
	litter
	& abstinence.

Run home little miss,
to sugar-free evenings 
of screen time & clean sheets.

Spate of ill fortune!
we’d all retreat inside
	ourselves.

Casting protective circles
Twelve feet in diameter 
with Lysol & panic attacks.
Swearing, we had not,
	ourselves 
summoned the invisible principality
nibbling at our mortality.  

Into individual serving caves,
watching shadows
flicker on our Samsungs,
uncertain if we’ll ever emerge.
Fearful of what expects us
in the broken future.

Enter into a futile passion,
hiding our faces from humiliation 
	& spitting,
	veiling our images:
tattooed skin, boot chipped teeth, 
smoker’s cough & fatty liver.
	Brittle matter 
	of which we are formed.
Mere shadow of our true spirit.
One hopes.

In ethanol we trust.
Lemony fresh disinfectant wipes
	& germy squirt.
Slay the unseen adversary
lurking on every surface
	& even 
	on final notices
slipped under our door.

How unlike the acrid smells
we loved so well,
of blithe nights
	long past.

Stink of hot knives
in Tompkins Square.
Shoplifted French perfume 
haunting art school corridors 
lined with bad student drawings.

Clove cigarette smoke permeates
each indelicate memory.
Mouthfeel of too many
espressos 
& puffs 
from hastily rolled joints.
	Joints rolled
	on subway seats.

Ladies in peril 
of their own design.
Cut their own bangs,
	& messed it up 
	every time.

First dates in graveyards 
& last dates ending 
in fistfights
with her old boyfriend.
Purine beer from cloudy taps
in bars not carding girls 
who can’t be fifteen,
bouncing in laps of skinheads 
with raw knuckles
& angel dust stares.

Rent party, nobody knows 
who lives in this loft.
Sweating under painted leather.
Dancing in her bra
stuffed with street money.
Unwashed hands dip cups into
punch spiked with Absolut & ecstasy.

Tiny kitchen, failed attempt 
at Vietnamese cooking,
her fish sauce breath upon you.
Split lips kissing
after vomiting vodka drinks.
Nobody held her hair 
in the vandalized bathroom.

Manic Panic head
stains pillowcase blue.  
Using your toothbrush
spitting out hippy toothpaste
	not approved 
by the American Dental Association.

Nights sullied, magnificent 
dying with you & me
limping into the awful 
eternity of tomorrow.