1.
i don't trust new york city
it's full of plastic trees
and propaganda
telling you to
fall in love
with the god damn place
and forcing you
to swallow
woody allen's
cultural ejaculate;
because the semen's
seemingly sane
this illusion is america's birthday present
to you
2.
when i met you for the first time
you asked: are we in love yet?
i couldn't help but dog-ear your
autobiography at all the pages
you mentioned me-
and i think there are ghosts sleeping
in joe's new apartment in ohio
and i walked the 170 miles
just to stand outside his door
where the cotton fell like snow
and i wished it was the winter
(it was winter when we met)
