He was so damn good—/
had a look, cocky smile, a lock of hair/
loose across his forehead,/
dark eyes that could melt metal.
Poetry
Love in a New City (and other poems)
The metro arrives looking similar/
to that childhood game/
where we had to prevent the ever/
growing snake from eating its own tail.
View (and other poems)
A single ferry leaves this house behind/
toward larger land. The passengers/
imagine their cities as they mute/
into the horizon.