nominative determinism

i memorize the way you end our phone calls, your voice

a small dish in the center. i laugh with my best hand, starring.

pleasure knocked back. precision covered in attic frost.

on my way home i watched a couple argue about missing keys,

i mean, assuming they were a couple, my only evidence

being the way they stood at each other, breath at all points.

i think to love someone requires a losing door. like the first time 

i made a sex tape and kept glancing at the camera, sober 

for the first time in four years. it got me nothing i wanted. 

on the phone i can hear you backing your car over cigarettes 

untouched by rain. your breathing was just getting good.