When you rise to pee,
I follow you with my eyes.
Artificial light is soft enough
to see a long way back,
to a plum orchard wet with
late night mist, the rattle of elevated
trains. Kisses tasting of garlic and ginger
by artificial light, graveled paths
leading to my apartment.
Why not pee when you have to,
why not laugh until you cry?
By David Thornbrugh