I will change my bedtime prayer from take me with you, Elon to don’t forget me, Prague, for it’s either the most beautiful city in the world or the rest of world is just ugly —
come before the storm
I want you to Blitzkrieg the corners of my heart
until I’m flotsam
But God doesn’t come rattling at your door in the middle of the night, you said. He lingers in the cool shadow of your garden tree, patiently waiting for you to let him in.
I took your words for granted. I didn’t know I had been listening to the ancient echoes of dying angels.
I love midnight dives when I’m lonely and drunk.
That’s the tricky thing about water under the bridge.
a broken radio crackles to life
solitary is the wind
whistling your name—
we set the city on fire
built a bridge between our dreams
and drove across it, into the night
just kids, waiting to be swept away
by Peter Pan
with regard to his dark devices—
my leaves have fallen in love
with terror and hurricanes
I don’t wish to learn your secrets
beautiful, meaningless void—
you have secrets I’d rather not know
and yet I peel away your layers
until I weep
and now we spend our final days
waiting for twilight to deepen
for night to obscure the edges
of humanity’s aching soul—