Jesse and Andrew

were two good friends in Los Angeles,
and in last night’s dream, Andrew announces
he quit acting, though we knew him as a screenwriter,
because he found success in Ohio, and thinking back,
in reality, we were journeying toward the same adolescent
dream, green stars, and we pursued when we were heartbroken,
worn-out, reckless, and last I saw Andrew he stuffed quarters
into the jukebox at gold-lit Birds, repeating Sussudio, commenting
on every woman at the bar, and I didn’t speak up. And Jesse had
returned that day from Thailand. He was sad and I was in love.
I had a chance to see him again– last fall, New York– but he has
a kid now and I could not muster a bus, or to revisit reminiscing
the dreams we shared, what we had to wake up from
during our long, separate searches for meaning.

(originally published in Ink Pantry, Fall 2024)

Invisibility (NYC)

Chin on window, I still somehow lost
myself in the crowd: the subway

left me here, at my draped destination. Yet
street guitars and strangers’ chatter echo

in the underground, eardrums thrumming through
this maze of machines: ticket-takers, escalators.

Half-shell, half-mind, I ascend into the grid
of civilization: deadened lego towers, blind

in the clouds, airplanes wending through
faint chemical composition quarter-notes.

(originally published in Pif Magazine, Summer 2019)