I can't figure out if this is living, or if this is having lived
You are not a house
in a quiet street, you are
redbrick apartment buildings
in the depths of Manhattan.
Every time I try to talk to you,
it comes out as taxicabs and
gunshots, but you are the
first person who has ever
stopped the smoking
bullet of my brain.
And if chaos
and silence
ever met
somewhere,
it's at the corner of
Every Time I See You and
Every Time I Watch You Walk Away.