Over on Chestnut Hill there is a sprinkler to dampen the asphalt when it rains.

tonight i puked as i walked home,
besides the same curve in the road where we left
the blue grocery cart, the one
you pushed me down as you tried to disclose
an insecurity regarding the girth of your hands. it was shocking
when i left your bed, it wasn't cold and a sprinkler
was still zritting through the rain it's four and I have learned
that it's this walk between buildings I crave
most, even more
than the lines that frame you

if it is hours long vanished
that have made me less human at least
then let me never be tame, I mean
if I keep resisting growth at least let me be jumping-skinned and glowing
long before morning trekking down this warm wet street with leaves
that continue to flit away from me and a long-lost sleep that shrieks,
but is no longer demanding.