.electric.shuffle.

If Chris buys the Alex P. Keaton, I might as well move into the lounge upstairs, settle into the Forest City.
Then I could co-host the Electric Shuffle more often than just tomorrow from 13.30 - 15.30.

march

it all begins outside: the way you
shimmied up my porch steps to greet me
the sound of church bells rolling through
the night, parting the air with each new note--
i felt the turbulence in my chest.

here's another way: i can hear the train
howling like a wounded dog, slinking
through dark.
i sleep with the windows open
just to listen. all of it meaningful
if i can put it together right.

and then you, your mouth's full
of words when you sleep, always talking
like i can pull you from

wherever you've gone.