We were, all of us, ethered
when the window broke. Soon after, the floor
bent. The wood collapsing upon
itself formed a new dimension,
a new danger. I wanted to kiss
all of you, friends— on the scruff, in the DJ booth,
behind the table in the blue screenlight
I played what you wanted. In the middle of our going on,
jealousy was the snow thawing on a good day: obfuscation, then
bright destruction. My desire in the cold months was
opaque, egalitarian. We were driven and making it up
hip to hip. No matter the rhythm the beat
laid out, salt on our lips:
our primary concern, our formal plea. Amber-lit
halfway by the sodium light, we wanted darkness
only, save for blunts, save for someone lighting
a cigarette. Desire is a blue dimension.
I played you collapsing, bent by
need on the floor.