THE PROBLEM WITH OTHER PEOPLE

is that one must leave before the other

and one always gets there first. words

left in my notes app when I was too eager

and soon: hoax, lonely drum, I’m

only typing this to look wanted,

but you and I once discovered

we had arrived on opposite ends

of the same damned train, and when

the day became a grey-blue smolder

but appetite still flashed its barb

one of us said, well, why can’t we

just stay? and how obvious it felt to stay,

our common history as new and bright

as a bulb. this is the decision, to know

you and keep knowing – us orbs framed

in the yellow second story window 

like displaced moons who’ve found

the other in the same foreign orbit,

who meet and continue to meet

even after all the easy words have gone.