Nostalgia, you
dirty word you

Dragged through
one year of

memories like
broken radiators(
bugging like br
oken radiators
& singing ghastly
sounds like brok
en radiators)

has where all the
time gone? o my!—stuck
to one centre
revolving
around the

sun.

if I could see you
now in my periphery,
how startled would
the history be
even
if
its
sides were
painted in Viennese
neon light backstreets?

& I will take time to
me hold close

that is us was
me for you,
sinking—

not you for me
or us for we;

its time now

when
caught on these
streets,

I mourn,
tracing our
year-old feet.