How To Make A Tiki Hut Bed

and hot water and my fingers erased your heart in my chest the first day of November 1 fríoy of comebacks. I draw the Jubilee Line your name in the iris, and Picadilly rid you of the future, a future indecipherable pen strokes on the skin of Leicester Square, on your eyelids, on my lap for two hours by train. I repeat your moon between his teeth and stroked into constellations to close my eyes. I'm just another autumn crusts, knots of dreams in the guts, death of poets, the end of a hectic day.