how far
can i
go till i’ve come back alone
till laughing
words, the jeering gets lost in smoke
when will
i manage
to turn
off
the nasty
inner censor?
remember
when
the sun
high on our heads
in florence
venice
padua, trieste
we drank
and shared
rough moments
with
each other
i miss you
does that
must count for
something?
is this
a pattern
that i’m doomed to repeat?
through rain
and snow
everyone’s dragging their feet
we live
in loops
are mine
to always
make
strangers
out of
good friends?
i started
writing this
a long time ago
the phrase
came up
i wanna use it before
this ends
enjambment
turning
lines
that bend in
convex
mirrors