Dervish

When the revolution comes back around
we are all reparations, apparitions
of what we have done, forgotten
before we've remembered.

To seven elements
how can we bridge
this language separation?

Let's have a bonfire
in secret
we'll burn old records, telephones and watches

Let's fall asleep on park benches
balled up New York Times as our pillows
we'll do the crossword
and sell the answers
to passersby too busy to do their own

Let's pretend you won
in a bar fight, spin a tale
angry words and bloody knuckles
how we ran from the police
and hid
in the all-nite movie theater
where we watched James Dean
and you cried

Let's set up camp in Times Square
you, on a box
whispering the parable of Judas
a kiss, in the metaphoric sense,
is just a kiss
me
collecting quarters from every state
humming french torch songs

Let's get drunk and sleep
on my old orange blanket
we can lay together and make lists
of all the things we hate