This Space

Two blinking red lights

A ribbon of smoke, the way

he rolls his wristband
up and down his arm.

His hair half-wet and still drying.

He walks in front of me,
as if this is the sidewalk’s problem.

As if the sidewalk went to the park
last night and blew
a ribbon of smoke
out of its mouth, and he

looks at me with his eyes
for once—
two blinking red lights, the way
he runs hi

This Space