We Used to Have Parties

The city is a kind welcome

of fire    It’s on fire

I tell you         not making sense

in the usual sense of the word sense

but a meteor’s bloom

The bad guys rehearsing

their latest number—

high kicks and all—the good guys watching

videos of unrest in real time

The way you high-fived me

I thought we’d have sex

Such excitement       negates the self

All the cops    standing still

The mask we wear      is assassination  

You’re cutting out