a man and a woman lean transfixed
shoulders touching
over the rooftop wall
of a pink stucco hotel
in santa monica
bearing a neon flamingo sign

drunk and high on each other
poetry
and the lights rising off the boulevard
into the night

there is nowhere else either of them would rather be
they love each other perfectly in this moment
he is 37 at the telling
she
35

this is where i must keep the memory of you
framed in my mind

to be safe

leaving the rest of your hell and drumstick bag
in the trunk of a rental car
outside an LAX terminal

you’re probably
wanted in arizona
for imitating the messiah

it would be madness for me to do otherwise