, , ,

if the night was a love song

then you would be its singer.  it

was written before you

came to it, but you seemed to

have created it with with each second

that you spoke, when you told us to go home, when you

explained that

fast cars didn’t always tell the

truth.  You put down the microphone

and said that drugs weren’t cool.  we danced and

turned into smoke before turning back

to people, you were exhaling.  And then

you breathed in again.