It will continue to break, and soon, sing, elated by time, after the fact, and failure

As a girl, that’s how you made it
to first base. You didn’t kiss,
you were kissed.

I slept in the back seat like a bad thought.

And Cathay was not China.
And Vietnam was not China
Nor made in China—but close enough.

He will teach me how to seduce
Men, stags, double-winged angels

between brownstones
where yearning
confesses its nature

but no one is always on your side
not even a poet

I am we: space the gift,
a white sprit of motion—

and I would lean in close and tell you that John Wick kills women like
he’s read feminist theory

Smoking a dart, I said.
I just met my first bird.