SWEATSHIRT

Somewhere as the light fades I see a bulb come on
I hold your face close to mine and try to see its light in your eyes
I wonder if maybe I’ll get that top from American Apparel you’re putting on
I buy it next week
I text you being blasé
In a moment the lights from the trains cast golden rhomboids across my bedroom ceiling
You watch them above me like they can see us
I text: U AROUND THIS WEEK?
No kiss
I decided not to tweet this
Or other associated cryptic feelings
If I never see you again, I think perhaps it’s fine
I can smell you in the 70/30 cotton/nylon of this sweatshirt
And when I catch sight of myself in it in the mirror, for a second I think it’s you