Wish You Were Here

You are the dark laugh
at the bottom of the glass,
the icy glint of ten till two,
the telltale scrapes
of a key
trying blindly to find its way home.

Your are your own perpetual night
emaciating bone and blood
to attitude in thigh high boots
and sighs.

You are a mess
of merging melancholies,
pheromones, and phone numbers
sticking to the floor.

You are a Wish You Were Here  postcard
fluttering to rest
on the thrift-store rug
of memory
lying.

For dverse