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In Montreal’s tiny pond
she and I we smoulder
the local swan, my amazon
with coathanger shoulders

My god, it’s a mirage; she’s booking to go.
I’ll swim the St. Laurent cause I lost her and I succumb.

When all your nights are starry blurs
will you remember me?
When all your friends are photographers
will you remember me?

I refuse
to reminisce
needle cracks and tape hiss.
Blue tattoos of the things I miss
are they bruise or cicatrice?
oh no, fear the plateau
there’s no up or down
costars and Hollywood tsars they flood my mind and I drown

Walking by your window, I called you for the first time
“yeah, the one who spilled my drink on you last night.”
and in my underlit apartment, you let me paint you by the flame.
I’ve painted you a hundred times and still can’t sign my name.

When all your nights are starry blurs
will you remember me?
When all your friends are photographers
will you remember me?
the scene is set to see your face
on every silver screen.
When all you need is a hiding place
will you remember me?

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