With our newsstand breath
And our tallyho mean-tos
We take our minds for dime-store dives
Trying it seems to taste
With arms that scent of lemon and you
The peppersweet stench of opposite sex sweat

You let the birds scare you
But you won’t let me in
The city doves with high-heeled pecks
The passing strangers get your grins the best
A minute in the blur
But you won’t let me in
We share cigarettes
Ideas
Gum
Fingers
Dirt
Worries
Space
But you won’t let me in
Our passport perspective
The summer, the crickets,
They miss you with me
We sing
Like bodies splitting wind
Our stand up slouch
The talks
Then gone
The words

Then pauses