In Which I Imagine Myself Into a Film Noir
What I love is to be behind things—
opaque glass doors. Smoke
rings drifting like fog. Dark glasses
large as eclipses. Schemes.
Leave your hat on. It casts
a distinctive shadow.
All the way down
the oil-slicked alley
I can watch you
In Which I Imagine Myself Into a Western
In Which I Imagine Myself Into a Slasher Flick