Artfag Killer

you hook
grab and chase
stop my car
disarm with stalker-prose.

i had this idea in my head
that i’d never have to try,
and you must have, must
have known.

never figured you’d die first or soon.
you danced too hard.
dancers live longer.

i had a place above a bookstore and a gastropub across the road.
we were so close to downtown that drugs floated to us.
you had your druggie friend of the druggie pharmacist.
she’s in jail and he’s going and you dived and i’m left.
you came like an engine, drove me for a week, left me stalled for two three.

Henning was on the other side of my wall blasting
classical when we fucked.
friend of my father’s; spies everywhere, eh?
came like an engine that fell through the car.
run over by hemm,
then back to your boy.

when i heard you’d died i stopped breathing for two minutes
and just shivered.
weeks since i heard you.
why’s your sister calling my phone?
now buried beneath the motor city and i wonder if i’ll ever visit you.

you called me an art fag ’cause i’m the only one who took anything but pictures.
you’re on my wall keeping me awake,
telling me we didn’t care about you together.

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