I´d Like To Escape The Romance
It´s my sense of smell that´s left or forgotten.
In that towel. In the last hotel condition.
I can´t help but want and want. But the receipts. But the small parts I was sure I would need. I don´t need to be protected. But the night is not careless. Though it has been and I have trouble being the first to say I am sorry.
Because I am not now, but I have been. Maybe I am too often sorry.
I have had that exact thought.
of the night being warm, sometimes. I try to ascribe much to this.
The night is sometimes warm when it ought to be cold.
I have my jacket, you know. The mossy and humid one that I like.
That reflects the givers face when the hand comes loose into the jacket neck.
Rise off the hook. Hand it down to me. The givers face.
I think the jacket wants for me. The way it drapes when the door is opened.
It hangs heavy.
so whimsically future oriented.