He rides the El like some vengeful Hemingway,

graffitti’s tags of novels

on the backs of plastic seats.

I was fired yesterday,

erratic punctuality,

victim of a guerilla writer

unaware of the scavenger hunt.

Large coffee to go, please,

extra fire and brimstone.

And a chocolate sin-filled doughnut.

It’s going to be one hell of a day.

I love you most in the height of summer

when I lose you in the sun

only to find you

somewhere else.

She is the saint of linoleum,

scrubber of sins,

hunting for hidden halos

in the scuff marks

of apostles.

My finger hooks the pin

of the relationship grenade,

itchy to detonate

the cold war between us.

But the curves of your lips

trigger into a kiss,

and I raise the white flag.

Surrender.

She wore his conversation

in the holes of her ears,

where his nonsense dangles

like cheap costume jewelry.

She licks the words,

Lays claim to the story,

Smudges her lipstick

With the sacred taste of hope.

You are the first fish I felt leap in my heart,

The last breath I lunged for

In the deep dive.

“Have one.”

He popped open the dispenser, offering her candy.

It was orange, her favorite,

tasting like baby aspirin,

reminding her of home.

How could she not fall instantly in love

with a man offering comfort

out of Wonder Woman’s head?