When automobiles had cut-glass vases

something recent:



When automobiles had cut-glass vases,
and odorous air surrendered to the freshest daisies;
When disputes were settled with shotgun shells and smiles,
fame was passed out like some incurable flu,
from blackened tongue to beckoned ear.
And we,
We held hands like candles,
love flickering in the winter wind,
brickle wax dripped across our laced shoes
like ice cream from a child.
And you watched our brittle breath haunt us,
a ghost chained to this leaden ball called life.

We traded lies in coffee houses shaped like coffins,
slowed into road sides, letting dead things
mattress under us, all decay and love and musk.
And I slipped my heart into a time capsule,
spaded it into the ground.
But I close this diary like a casket:
That was then, this is now.