in the stuffing of the false leather where it first surprised us both crossing my lips
baptize me in your name.
in the pockets of your father’s leather jacket in which he buried your mother and for that
he was on my side.
in the borders of your favorite photograph the man behind the newspaper the one that made
you cry to be him for me and for yourself.
beneath the floor boards of that house where you sank into me and the cushions
like you came from us and for us.
in the liquor bottle you bought on tuesday invading your blood stream to feel what it is
to be drunk inside you.
behind your teeth and under your tongue where I came to understand
the difference between young and new.