one side to the other

the junkie on the tram home pokes his head out of the open doors at every stop. 'any of these places could be home!' I wonder if he's lost or just enjoys a stage in motion and an audience. his monologuing scares us all into our phones.

there's a letter I could write you hanging dormant in a note between more poetry and dreams. there's a pit in my heart that we dug without thinking. you left without warning. without knowing why I'm left without a way to fill the gaps. I listen to our songs and wonder if you hear me like I hear you in the words. an empty bottle rolls from one side to the other as we hurtle past the cemetery.