Fuck the days I cannot be full.

you and i shape our gritty lows, i know
our bodies slapping through the autumn cold is not a joke,
but a moment to shout and shriek and rip through these roads
that sound like clack with dirt and grime and too much light, have you ever

noticed how each city shares a purple sky, or how it might
resemble your wither-drowned cheeks
as they bite through my thighs, through this elevator where your shoes
plant dust between my knuckles
as it brings us home. i mean,
really now. i've seen it all before.