Like growth to seed
I swam in her memory
In her apartment back in New York
I fingerwalked
her bookshelf
I saw she read Cummings
I napped beside her
we were waiting o the party
that was happening and already
at the peak of my laziness
I chased the fields of her warmth
yellow-white slumber
sunlight scattering my
skin
Later tucked poems
into the crate that held
records, notably, YMO.
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