We played to the sound of
sirens; keeping time
like thieves, and staying in
the shadows as if
we were the ones being chased.
wind blew from the Bay and touched
our coats like the
Usher did at the theater we
came from. To avoid real conversation
we crossed the street, dodging the moon
and some news rolling past our
shoe strings; But it was really us
rolling, the printed past fading, driven
by the wind and road construction.
a curb we could not climb
ourselves. We walked the night
touching arms, and talking
for a bar she swore I'd love.