A model’s cigarette smoke is in my face. Speed-walking down Houston street on a beautiful day in SoHo, we’re arguing. It…
I saw a hidden awning, perched above me like a streetlamp,
illuminating all the possibilties hidden in the night.
Do I want to try the quaint Italian Lambrusco, or do I want Saag Paneer?
Hear my inner thoughts
as tributaries expelling out of my mouth.
The crinkle of words not committed to memory
blurring as I tremble.