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i can hear you think to yourself now, about that quiet squeaking sound,
the street lights pouring in through dirty windows,
a small isolated shelter, rusty ceilings through the roof tops,
i saw stars that night i hadn't seen for years, and felt them tumbling down
onto our bare skin, bare backs, not a single broken bone,
and god! how good and great is the night? temperature closing in faster than the distance between you and i
and the floor
and the pavement
and the grass
and the same stars in the night sky.
so of course i can hear you think to yourself now,
about that quiet squeaking sound, and a voice
leaking out of my mouth like water through a cracked dam.