I live on the same side of the tracks
you used to a decade ago
the whole city covered in triangles
between past, present, future selves
that have never met
despite passing under the same
streetlights
over and over
you lived here like three others
the witch, the nymph, the ghost
never knowing of each other's existence
in my thoughts and between heartbeats
I tried bedding you all
but only the nymph became a story
of success and shame
and now I'm the one on this side
with everyone else gone with the trains,
the planes, the "I'll write you maybe"
it never gets old
