stories that end in wit and regret:
memories overseas, encounters with domestic lovers
revealing truths about ourselves, the world:
astrological placements, society’s racial cleverness

“I’ll probably write a poem about this tomorrow”
so where do I start? maybe at your destination
which really are intentions that you carry around
the things you want to achieve, waiting on you
weighing you down, you fall into regret

The City Night is a greedy audience with a promise:
we will never know who it brings our stories to.
So, maybe we’re not really strangers
after all, my stars prophesied about you

We’re sitting on rocks as you describe the effect your sister left
A shadow constantly seen each time you finally fix the lights onto you
an inheritance following you, so your success and failures exalt her glory.
You speak to me like you knew we shared the same story.

Take me around your world, around the world;
leave this night to experience the nights in other cities
While here, sitting on rocks.

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