Photosensitive streetlights flicker,
unsure whether sun is really
here again. Men moan worthless
Iloveyous at this hour. Birds rejoice
that the world is here again at this
hour. Hips swivel on steel chairs.
Receipts stroll down sidewalks.
The patter of the planet’s mantle.
Pumpkins rot in quiet. And ink slips
out of my mouth onto your
parchment chest, the patter of
the planet’s mantle.