• What secrets do they keep?
    Those hapless heroes holed up
    in horny bars
    noisily devouring each other.
    Where do they go on
    August nights
    when heat and humidity
    drive them from sweaty lovers,
    and among the stars and the flies
    they wish they were someone else
    born long before they were?

    I want the secrets
    want to eat them with a spoon and a bowl
    of cool whip
    want to caress the small of their backs
    and whisper poison into their ears
    want wishes and desires to pour out of me
    like blue-birds emerging from a child's chest
    want to BE with them
    a pair of murder shoes strung out on a telephone wire
    while the wind whispers through our soles
    we will never be alone again

    In the dark of Sea Ave I walked through liquid street lights
    listening to the quiet sweep of the grass in the wind
    dreaming of all the places I've ever known
    and all the while I knew
    I would never get any of them back.