Pixelated Window

I can't tell if I can't see

when the windows are covered

in drops from the breeze

the pixelated scene is pulsing-

a heart-throb or a clouded dream.

Service on an Autumn's Night

For Hannah

I told her I would write her poetry.

What was it she expected of me?

That night on the rooftop of

Mequita's roparia with the purple

haze of the Sears Tower beckoning

behind you, we gave into our

guttural laughter until our collapse gave

heed to the creaks in the asphalt shingles.

I told you I would write you poetry.