in town

What I didn't tell you was how the buildings of Philadelphia disappeared into the coming clouds, particles slipping like sand,
the ginger feeling of these cool memories
a record or two just, simply, handed to me
the rain crashing hard and then nothing, peace

I can catalog the insects that have died in the past ~2wks on the front porch very sadly
their fangy mouths carrying food, scratching at the door, pawing the 'welcome' mat. What I didn't tell you was how i would walk under wisteria and remember some ancient words about love.

And then in a banged-up bar talking about alcoholic ex boyfriends can bring me back-- but we're laughing, picking at the fancy foil on our beers and shooting free throws down a  friend's shirt, making fun
having fun. I talk of an osage orange, showing milk sap and thorns. I like that you are back and forth about rollercoasters and that you're in town, letting me buy you free fleur di lis and '''the end of the world'''