come giants at virgils

when the nights go dark, when the lights go down, when giants take their rest is when you and i perform ourselves best. when silent breaths breathe into dying and decrepit lungs lost and fragile to life. overused. filled once with smoke and angels playing games with their lives leading us to heaven or to hell. the spell of paradise cast over it all like an eerie shadow, or a magical and translucent hologram, transparent to all we are.

i remember when i told you i love the smell of bourbon and cigarettes on a woman's breath. then you ordered a bourbon and stormed out to smoke a cigarette. clouded by your beauty and strength, the sweet smell of your silliness surrounds me like stillness in a universe of splendid things. the you of we, defining the us that came before with each step as you walk away.

violent women unbecoming all around shroud their true faces with pleasantries spoken to vacant friends as i wait for you in the dark before i go lay down this day in my parked car. i'm meant to watch awkward embraces between detached gentlemen and hear statements of being blackout drunk together way back in the good ol days as if this was the denouement in their lives. empty words and puffed up tales all around talks of being published and daddy issues and manhattans.

then trip hop appears, saving me from all of this fake. finally waves of music bringing me to tears as unbecoming thoughts of not seeing you again creep in. remembering talks of which finger to hold your cigarette, far from smooth with lesbians fumbling toward ecstasy at the end of a blunt. sitting here alone watching it all. keep the mission safe they say as they throw their beer bottles down to the floor to crash and shatter into a hundred pieces. a hundred paces till i call you mine.