moths under bar light

a familiar place
   our dreams quarreling 
over petty things

you've never been here 
   but seem at home

familiar

   what isn’t is vertigo
i adapt to it
   adopt it somehow

though it is yours
   though you shouldn't 

be here

   you belong 
out there beyond 
   my reach

but here it is 
   and here we are 

disjointed and 

   juxtaposed
my poetry 
   and your prose

fluttering about
   our neon lights

and he is the punctuation 

   and she is the space 
between each empathetic 
   syllable