in eighty four I ate out of food containers and fell in love with dahlias met a woman named dahlia who fell in love with a woman named crystal

in my building we heard their walks on the dry fall apple pavement

with the dog

with the thin windows and the screaming

sweet home cooked bamboo meals

.

and she lost her mother to cancer

and she survived cancer

and she broke up with dahlia

because she was looking for more than petals

.

we drank too much wine and he talked to me about photography and pornography reading backwards

his hands untied his broken cloud buddha deviant outlines of dreams

he gave me a pillow and called me paranoid

he didnt know why I hurt when I talked about race or homophobia

.

she survived gypsy jazz

tasting her flowers as they flaunt

about her, waiting for her

roots, her whole tethered roots.

.

he could see both

.