An Idling Engine

Scratching cold beer bottle labels

From glass. They’ve been here

for me. When I needed them.

 

An idling engine. That’s me.

On a corner somewhere, far away

As I speak, now—she coughs on me.

 

From the fumes, I smile, like I mean

It. Show some teeth—don’t worry—

No one’s watching. Not really.

 

I’ll keep my hands in the very same

Pockets of my jeans where she once

Kept her hands when she was cold.

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