Let us go then, you and I.
Name me after her
until I'm just as enigmatic as the lovely memories of her feel.
I'll stop asking when you stop asking
why.
I'm ripping off record players as I'm smiling just to smile
standing barefoot on the tile
for a while
until my mouth goes out of style.
Let us go then, just us two.
The Mardi Gras medallion is swinging in time like a rhythmic repugnancy of what I should be.
Futuristic reprimands make your voice taste like arsenic.
Pour me a shot.
Let me go then, on my own.
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