Montero's is gone but I can do karaoke at home
so all I've been thinking about
is the Mexican place in Greenpoint that
the evidence of is this
that the smoke coming off the sizzling fajitas
that the waiters floated over the delighted crowd,
it filled a room like nothing else
like the dread that filled me when I thought
I wouldn't make it in time to Tandem
to kiss you
that time when I just had to see you again,
hot grease spitting, like florets vibrating off broccoli
like thunderclouds upside down,
like whatever comes up from the inevitable
pinholes of the garden hose
once the season starts up again.
Daddy's a good daddy when he's not
starting grease fires.
Christ, he talks and jokes now.
14, soon to be 15 years is no time,
Montero's gone like Tandem's gone like
whatever it is of me, finally, gone, that was,
gone dusk, skulking
the cul-de-sac'd oblivion of
Barratt homes
sequenced in sandstone
designed to bore petty crime
into submission
there's only one way out
and no way in
so you're always there in the first place
by default
saying oh god no this horrible feeling
I deserve more
and I shall wait or pretend to wait for
more to happen to me.
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