A TENEMENT ON JONES STREET

A TENEMENT ON JONES STREET

 

A string of clear rope lights hang overhead.

“Those are stars” she said.

“We can’t see the real ones from here

 so these will have to do.”

But the wine is real,

as the cap is unscrewed.

 

She told me that she loved me

with all her heart,

but not her eyes.

I told her the same lies ,

but with me it was just

a matter of

thighs.

 

So here we sit under our

make believe stars

with no moon

and the flowered wallpaper hangs lifeless

between the curtains.

We drink our wine and

make believe it is

tomorrow.