cocaine eyes

lines in the bathroom at the end

of the pier

off the black mirror cracked

my phone screen little white and black

lines like this poem

it’s dark the fishermen play with green

glowsticks

dipping

into the cold black waves

i blow you on blow

quietly as

pair

after

pair

of sandals step into the stall

next to us

pomegranate kombucha hits

the back of my throat like that fire

i swallowed a chemical reactor

i can’t feel the roof of my mouth

i can feel the roof of sky turn

purple i can breathe all the way

out

keep breathing after

all the oxygen in all the world

is expelled

and my eyes settle back

you are less glittery

more a mirror

as your pupils dilate again

—September 2021, San Diego, CA