made a machine by describing the landscape
a child made out of a song about money
our sex became a boxer who moved in next door retired
a separate man we thought we knew
joked about him feared a little bit nodded hello
admired from a distance
like when leon spinx moevd into town

my leg falls asleep and becomes a telephone call
whispered on the black stairs
the cord disappears behind the kitchen door
breathing in the pauses seeing how long
we can go without saying anything