An erroneous message of two equals,
in a future program.
The Internet was given an italicized quote
above a colored text box,
he may have wanted to kill me.
This effluence of wealth,
the sand mound became a birthday party for us,
a laser strobe and French pop music.
One bite of a jalapeno pepper before bed,
obstinate to the clock,
I tricked the man to continue driving,
to repine, and face North,
but, as an adult.
In a hallway, half of dusty mirror and half of tile,
smoke from outside,
a layer of silk, of starch
indoors on a warm Spring day,
splashed by yesterday’s puddle.
I don’t want to be at this party anymore,
where torsos touch.
My eyeglasses slide down my nose,
running through Brooklyn streets at this hour
only to find myself two floors above where summer was spent.