Leaving Your City
In the midnight bar
your breath collapsed on me.
I balanced on
the tip of your smile,
holding on to your words
as I climbed the dark steps.
Meticulous,
your furniture neatly arranged for death,
you sharpened the knife
on the moon's surface,
polished it with lunatic silver.
You were kind,
reciting poetry in a drunk tongue.
I thought: At last!
Now I loiter in and out
of your memory,
speaking to you wherever I go.
I'm reduced to my poverties
and you to a restless dream
from another country
where the sea is the most expensive blue.
***
My finger, your phone number
as its tip, dials the night.
And your city follows me,
its lights dying in my eyes.
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