black lungs

he likes a girl that smells like cigarette smoke.

blue blue blood, like you
understand the night
and what it means
to see the moon backpedal
over black-out houses
where they never know better
than to sleep
and be thankful for sleep

the watchmen hours we make
pounding down the concrete
in how-abouts
and roundabouts
and back-to-your-corners
idealism versus realism
a midnight match
and the competitors draw

and the night was frozen
where I sucked the breath
up out of your lungs
we fit in the star-scape
in the same way
we do not fit
in the solar starkness
of acceptability

I told you, 'time doesn't exist,
clocks do'
you told me 'you can fight the oppression
tomorrow'
the sun in REM
melting the sky
with desert dreams
hands us over to acquiescence