You and that goddamn smile,
it's cocktail hour again
somewhere across this twilit city
and you'll brook no opposition.
You know you're the only one I see.
Years off, a woman gently grasps my wrist
and I know you'd shiv her if she ever hurt me.
Even when I'm pulling my best
angel-of-death impression on some
barren stretch of humanity, I'm not gone.
It's you. And the summer comes again,
someone's playing Lauryn Hill again.
Must be something, I've been told,
but it's nothing, the only nothing
for me. A filament of light
dangling aching happy
on an elemental string.