1499Y

It’s too much, Joyner.

It’s too much.

Too much to ask for. Too much.

It’s too loud. Too loud to hear

whispers along 23rd Street.

It’s too much, Joyner.

I don’t want to make it too much.

It’s too much. Naming your fish,

“guilt,” and your dog, “shame.”

Too much.

It’s too on the nose.

.

When it’s too much, Joyner

I hope you call and hope

we can relish in small talk.

After all these years,

it’d be so much easier to talk

weather and not the mornings

where we stayed in bed

making love

breathing in the soft

sighs and dreams

floating just above us.