THE OPEN MIC CYPHER

[Split Eight]

my fingertips find a way through
the burn holes of my favorite sweatshirt.

fleeting kiss. breadth of a cigarette's glow.
your hands in my pockets
perfume & ash. it's easy to forget
those breakthroughs. I took the leather
wrap off your steering wheel. we felt
character in the wear on the vinyl.
records collecting dust so that, one day,
you could can dust them off. the pang
of translantlanticism.
it's easy to forget those breakthroughs.
what Sarah said. and the imperfect narrator.

tobacco and lavender. coughs in the dusk.
love becomes nostalgia when novelty's dull.
my hands in my pockets
even in the cold, the air is mine to touch