On the first warm Friday of the year we both took off our jackets. I was on the N train
where I found that the numbers added to 7 again Reading a prayer pressed against a poppy
remembering how I watched you calculate what it would take for us to live together
Counting numbers so carefully when the press of your finger could have accurately
contested any distrust.
That's when He told me hope without anxiety isn't hope at all, so I had no choice
but to pluck it from your neck. I drank it because I said that's how I live. and I veil
-- I and you. It was written there somewhere in paganistic code And I could only
understand it through living it By first betraying it and then by promising it.
It was a first of mine.