There are bigger fish to fry It’s a blue-sky day The air has stolen violent the sun’s azure light & scattered it around It’s the ruin of a bloodless war Put that in your Instagram I get sad so often thinking how brilliant the sun could be if not deprived of all its color Instead we marvel the bold slant metal’s shadow provides on brick the strut of bird’s beaked yellow parading affront the sky It’s the city baby You could stay here forever & be tired of how tired you are for a very long time Talk about it over coffee with someone you call your friend hug them with lips so close to the hair that skirts their shoulder you can taste how the sun has bleached them It’s a violent thing to be alive Your skin floats away & is called dust Someone breathes you in & chokes Someone else takes a photo of you hanging twirling in a spear of light ripping through a window & landing on the hardwood’s ballet floor My friend texts me to say he didn’t invite my ex to a party I won’t attend This is what the world is now a series of little miracles everyone thinks they’re performing when I don’t really want them Do you see this word & how it can be anything you want if you say it long enough Do you see how a cello’s note hangs even after its action It’s like we could be ghosts It’s like the word for violence might as well be sky It’s like some days I want to be invisible with the one I love in a car on a bridge in that space where the bridge is not yet a bridge Someone is working on it always That’s why the car floats That’s why when you wake up from a bad dream & reach to touch my arm it’s my arm & not someone else’s