New Years Eve 2

In this city on a mountain
light yellows beneath the clouds
and across the street a hospital
blinks at the same frequency
as the fireworks we shoot
in between traffic—
a match in darkness, silence
that lasts a beat too long
before shrieks lead our
eyes to a spot in the darkness
twenty feet up now
constellated in sparks.
They disappear before the
sound does.
This is how I want to
remember the new year:
flowers of light in a cold
rain.  A crowded porch,
sharing hits until the drizzle
misting off the street
contains every face I know.
My love’s voice as we
speak on the phone.
There is no moment a year
pares away from itself.
It is only a long evening
that becomes morning
while cigarettes burn
low on the porch
we sleep companionably
on the floor
and ash melts and runs
away in the rain making
a seamless thread
of silver down the road.


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