20
I am thinking of the nickle as it tumbles down the slots how it feels in the mechanisms rolling along each groove I am thinking of your hand tracing my lower back of each hair reflexing I am thinking of the seaside of a weathered bar and up high on its hinges A neon sign, humming, that no one has replaced
Am I humming In the same way? Is my frequency across town? Should I go to it? Or should I stay here? miles away, speaking like the lights across the water Speaking like old hands on new glass like the pool break like the beginning of a game


















