a memory

i am unsure how to discern

if i can’t sleep, or don’t sleep

lying in front of a laptop,

all windows closed

against a bizarre interface

a generic background,

i see you smile

a memory

on a cast iron fire escape

you seem cold

and warm

and cold again

and selfishly, i think,

when i write about me, i feel compact

verbose

‘i’m cold,’ you said then

and i thought

we could die trying to communicate

veraciously