Not Recommended for Use in Hot Beverages

There's no Insomnia in this city.
I've stepped boldly into greenery
with casual statements that whisk away
then bound back, puzzled at brevity.

Each visit takes on a luxury without
your talk, talk. Of course
we didn't have Tiazzis back then,
you engrossed, stirring, saying not really—

Peach changes everything, mellow
and easy, summer in a car smiling—
where to? None of the blank sobriety
with its striations, dissertations.

Even the music is foreign pop.
Time unpasses, waved away, waived,
air-conditioned into this universal
feeling of having had, been had.

Youth is wit, you'd say, though I've
been growing up. Everything is beginning
to cost a lot of money. Though I'm still
quite precocious, and quite beyond remorse.

I can admit these things generously
since you turned out being right.
I should've listened more.