You are my 5th Avenue

You are my 6th my 8th my Broadway

You are my grain of salt my steak

boiled baked and fried potatoes

my sweet corn on the cob

You are my border crossing

You are my trans-Atlantic flight

the long layover between London and Bilbao

You are my new pair of shoes

the blisters they give my feet

the sliced tomato in the fridge

the smell in the sheets

memory of your underwear drawer

the cool in my drink

humidity

You are the obituary on page A 17

the sliver of photograph falling

out of the folded-up letter I still

haven’t sent

You are radio static

You are the dream I had last night

the night before

I want tonight

You are the words

I wish I’d written

You are anticipation

the mistakes I’ve made

the worst decisions I’ve made

the moment I want to quit

You are the voice that says quit

You are the one for me

You two thousand miles away

You different languages spoken

You asleep right now while I write