Long-haired summer Saturdays
an hour before it gets holistically hot
You’re still in bed if memory serves
but when does memory ever serve?
Just good mornings and goodbyes
everything else is a pact with the devil, my soul for a window seat on the train and a silent phone
Getting home isn’t quite so simple as getting on
but getting by is hardest of all now that the city has passed a tax on sinning and dying

You may smile sweetly
but your teeth are rotted to the core
and your tongue twists to stay in sole possession of the truth
Good morning,
it’s what your mother would have said

Remember that all of your lovers will pass away, brain dead and unmemorable
Safe from the pressures of lasting impressions
Like mine.
With history, we get to live on forever, but only if we ever lived in the first place

The city waves goodbye

If memory serves, you were sleeping when the train took me away for the last time
but what does memory ever serve?