i loved you when we watched buster keaton films all
night and played the keyboard, like old film-house organists.
we walked by each other in front of the bar
and did a funny little dance- walked toward each other like
chickens, bending and strutting our legs. And then, laughing, we kept
strolling toward our own doors.
once, we woke up with no
memory of where we had been, but our glasses were missing and
the kitchen window was broken in.
i thought the cockroaches skulked, you thought they skittered
when we sat quietly in the night-time living room with
excalibur glowing- rapidly turning on the overhead lamp
to catch them red handed, skittering (yes)
back into the shadows.