I used someone else as a placeholder for you when I started writing this; walking home alone at 3 AM all the bars on Saint-Laurent doing last call I breathe easy, knuckles cradling keys, smoking on the sidewalk and promise that this is yours and yours only, my love,   my love,  my love

slow traffic on Mont-Royal streetlights humming / luminous waste and me, kissing consecrated concrete (tastes a million times better than weed or anyone’s bottom lip ever could)

I love you for your bikes and brick walls, for the 80 running at some ungodly hour and warm bagels in paper bags and yr tongue foreign and romantic and cursed to never adhere to the roof of my mouth

I love you for the lovers you leave on my doorstep (for the lovers I leave at their doorsteps) (for every boy with a fine arts degree who I will laugh about six months from now)

For the cross on the mountain For the water below

For nights like tonight where the moon sits in Aries I love you I love you I love you

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Mouth meets space between bottom rib / top of hipbones meets cyborg surfaces and (me)      Mediation Meets strange delineations Meets skin as a site of loss

the body is built on precedent/passivity You tread minefields with yr              tongue

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