{revision, for those playing along at home}

lies about absence

my gods, I love a lost cause. light
from downed wires, kisses
between the elderly. tissue
on a hemorrhage, flagging a cab
at dawn on a wet Thursday

bring it on. a mouthful of dead moths,
watch me grin. a cheshire on nitrous.
the lover looks like a brother
or courier, it’s really
neither here nor there

the jukebox song’s enough
to drive you off the edge
of the bar, heavy handed piano
a minor key but the band’s tuning
ruins the mood so suicide
is out of the question

again. your glass is nearly empty
and the percussionist looks bored
or merely in love. hard to tell
with bluegrass, if that’s what this is.
don’t call. fruit flies orbit in for a sip.