you're sincerely welcome

the city makes

a humming sound

and answers my

questions honestly

under its sleepy tones

as the windows

smile with their hands

waving in the wind

like flags from open panes;

and the sounds

of the cars

coming to a complete

halt as if all life

was extinguished is not

a welcome home

but an apology.

we have dialog here

like two guitars

whose voices dont match

we make ugly noises

that splinter in on themselves

like a double negative

and you're sincerely welcome.

I woke up this morning

and remembered everything;

the wrinkles in the paper

that were wrapped

around the words

like a blanket, keeping

them tightly packed

in between the lines

like yours always were

left to be interpreted by

the darker and slower

parts of the brain.

the clock by the bed reads

noon and my eyes feel

like 3:17 am in the room

with no windows where

we sleep every night.

where the door is always ajar

and the machines never

get turned off, leaving the

hum to be heard from

bathroom to hallway,

hallway to door, door

to bed. Always asking

if this is alright, in the

wake of whats left

of the dream we were having.