we were cosmonauts, exploring inner space

On the fire escape in slanted night, we watched San Francisco

and you told me I was scattered out there under the lights.

Under each streetlamp there were 100 myselves I’d never meet

and one day, the Anthony that was me-here-touching your shoulder

would die. and none of the people under the lights

would give a f**k, or even bring cherry cordials to the funeral.

And you were right, but also drunk.

And I was sad, but also sober.

The world turned some more and your chemical happy leaked out.

Then we were just clear and shivering and wrapped together,

sharing happysad thoughts and annihilation dreams.

We imagined an atom bomb that lit up the Bay

and thought what a pleasure it would be

for it all to go zinc-white in the throes of a first kiss.

Hours ran away, 

clocks made ungodly shapes with their hands,

and our eyes unwrapped a starry expanse of human machine.

then I read you poetry, and

I told you all those insecurities I had nearly forgotten about, and

you said things that are for your poems and not mine.

a long silence was a glass pane waiting to shatter, and,

after one eternal-life within a moment, you said,

“you are that star. that one. right there.”

for a shiny microsecond I saw us from the sky and thought how small, 

how sad, and wonderful it all is, 

and how fun it is to kiss!

What a weird thrill, to exist not alone!