When we talk we go to the black room
You claim to hear the pulse
of cars; the water of fear
pours from your mouth
So you pick terms
When we talk I listen and your
jokes are too pointed:
"What's got two
legs, bruises like
an apple and can't sleep"
It lasts for hours; the tremors keep
When we talk you echolocate
Who did the boy with the green
eyes know; was the dealer
licentious — you look away —
were we infected
When we talk the black room is locked
We keep the door ajar but the
fear remains that there are no keys