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.