We were between armor and mummies 
                on the ground floor,
weighing preservation in a tin 

We trusted no one so he came
along that first dinner and felt
or inferred the pile under footfalls

I gather you were in the lobby 
Minutes before. 
Terrifying to almost see you again.   

A field sparrow 
is at my window, 
tapping at its reflection, 

The limerick walked by the shore,
and watched the night eat the sun raw.
It lay by the wharfs,

Now this is a city held by winter,
and this is a glass splinter.
Now this is a day as short as a short vowel,

Fresca’s got a new look
but I’m not drinking
that. My coke

Where do you come from?      Where did you grow?     Your leaving
brought you here     To the nest at the center of your home     Where
have you flown?     Your lowered gze at the center of your home     Where

I breathed on the glass
of my other lives 
so I could write in the fog.