(your soul is waxed and manicured)

your soul is waxed and manicured
by the same people who do your eyebrows
you decorated your heart like the hall of mirrors
an optical illusion, made of obsidian
meant to appear more expansive, comprehensive
but it's only just a wall

life in a walk up you called it
each stair a meditation sight
pissing in the snow 
on a lower east side Manhattan rooftop
howling at the moon, talking at the stars
the rush of fucking
twenty stories high

you weren't there
just me.

Go ahead, ask me, if you feel so inclined
ask me if I care
the answer's written down here
somewhere...
but I have a feeling the ink evaporated
because either way it seems unlikely 
I can answer honestly.

Go ahead, ask me if I care
I thought I left the answer
sitting there
or maybe it drowned in love puddles of saturday night
but maybe it rode the tail end of gas fumes
from sunday morning driving
from his front door.

it's ruining the air up there.
a hole in the ozone, a peep-hole to heaven
watch as the angels change into nightgowns
after putting curlers in their hair
beside a nightstand full of postmarked prayers

Angels move vertically but we move sideways
door to door,
eye to eye, 
street to street.
silenced by the summer heat.
I know you, I know you
you're not who you say you are
or who you thought you'd be

Dear, Pisces

Pisces, I'm doing what you asked me to do
It's 3 a.m and this pen is pining for you
This hand has no intention just following a magnetic drug
As each chamber of the heart begins to flood

Pisces, I don't even think you read star signs

Hallelujah

We walk talking the whole way
from the west side to the east
then downtown and across the bridge
there is nothing we don't say
how love is a convenience 
it is convenient to say "I love you" before hanging up the phone
have a nice day, hi how are you?

the Metropolitan is pay as you wish
but the girl behind the counter still sneers at my two dollars
I used to go there for the air conditioning and the sphinx 
used to buy my produce on 86th and Broadway
and when I couldn't buy food I sat near any statue
just to feel close to someone

Was it a prophecy? 
that women stay silent for fear their teeth will shatter
that boys jump off the George Washington
because of the way they love
love, the great emancipator fallen on its own sword.
while the slow mechanics of day and night grind
powered by ancient calcified frustrations
they say the ice caps are melting
will it drown out this sorrow?
Sorrow knows the breast stroke

All these Brooklyn girls 
with capsized perfume bottles and torn stockings
and dresses wilted on bedroom floors, dying to be freed
I have my armor, my headphones, my book
I need not look at any of you
a homeless man riding the subway singing "Hallelujah"
we all turn our heads and don't dare to breathe 
he steals us and haunts us, we don't give him a cent

Pipes and needles, crushed adderall and K
basement shows and warehouse raves
just one night to feel like someone else
because drugs transform you, seduce you
they're all we know of love
Hallelujah