Slower & slower & then, for one/
Whole month, it spun so fast/
It was impossible to be jealous/
Or afraid or lost. Pants flew/
Off of strangers. Lapdogs floated/
Away, zigzagging across/
The sky like balloons.
Is it really warranted, for you to bring a gun to New York,
city of high achievement? Thoughtless we both stood,
me, trying to talk you down from taking an overdose
of cerulean powder, you, intent on ingesting a headlamp
so you could witness the inner beatings of your gut.