tunnels in the moon

We’re going to Mars because

I can’t find you.

I’ve looked.

You’re not at the deli, you’re

not behind the wall

with the mural

where the tree grows out.

Your mother hasn’t heard from you in weeks.

I guess I decided to go before then,

you’ve been half out and half in since we

got here.

You took the train upstate to that

drafty old bitch of a house where I lived.

We slept on unfinished floors and

watched stars turn.

We are two hearts.

What I didn’t find in you was

under the bed but I gave it up for lost.

I ran on asphalt for three days and

didn’t find you.

Maybe you’ll find me red and underground.

Or they’re building tunnels in the moon.

We could make a sort of life together there.

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