We all walk past that house on Arch
the one I think is haunted
strange lights
spirits in the attic
spirits in my belly
a small crowd of drunks
laughing in the spring night
stumbling over broken sidewalks
stumbling over rehearsed words
bold as innocent children
the Russian, she sneaks a kiss on my cheek
and snatches my red notebook from my hands
finds a spot near the fountain
and starts reading out loud
cityscape as a backdrop
my poetry fills the street
we listen in awe
someone yells genius
and I blush
slipping her hand into mine
we take a bow
and find our way home
I steal a kiss
slip into sleep
and wake to sunlight
as the only companion in my bed
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