The Last Thing Said
it’s late
so in my mind
is the last thing said
at the matador. your birthday? that wasn’t it,
the last thing said. we shook hands,
i believe, in the way whirls do.
eh, seattle isn’t so far, not so
far as new york, and here we are. the cab came and
took a circuitous route
and i got to see you dance on burnside
like a person running through
trees in the dark with your friends until i believed you
