# #music 7 poems ## [the zig zag cafe](https://chromato.graphics/the-zig-zag-cafe) mb + [ClaireViolet](https://claireviolet.cv/) switchback stair market manicules labyrinth reveal a hanging garden third place jazz no reservations? but what were we before ourselves finishing a talk with your sister a tinctured fire fluid solidifies all black pupils sadist’s leaning considering want freepouring both lamplight yellow redlight therapy shaken & stirred cry our eyes out point of returns now that we know the place’s ours last words echo. ## [photobooth](https://chromato.graphics/photobooth) shoes stick to the floor, we wander past the bar into a dim red-lit lounge. pinball, locked door, you. you’re a seeing machine. pull your curtain closed— shroud us in secrets that end just above our waist. tap on a train faregate, a beep reminds us that transportation isn’t free, a short trip still costs us. you’re a seeing machine. see what we’re made of. we’re trapped here now, we can’t hide from flash. all whirring and waiting. don’t know how long ’til our capture, our release. we kiss from impatience. you’re a seeing machine. our mouths are blurring, hands in hair, bite marks in flesh. we have no time. falling back into the light. was there music before? we lean against the box, we cannot lose contact. you’re a seeing machine. you take time to develop. wait here: a strip will fall. freeze us in four frames. ![Black-and-white four-frame photobooth strip of two people kissing.](https://chromato.graphics/_astro/photobooth.CBK1CijU_Z184ngP.webp) ## [AS 21](https://chromato.graphics/as21) if you’re hearing this, it’s ’cause i trust you. there’s a lot of detail, high resolution scans. i take an early flight. nothing good is easy. _what am i forgetting?_ chocolate orange peels. i program on the airplane to distract from humming in my eardrums; an engine whirring to life in my chest. she applies the night before risks her body just for more. she knows she has to see it before i remember my face. jetway’s made of glass, eyes have steel blades. _what am i forgetting?_ 54-inch red shoelace. _“do you want to get the_ _fuck out of this airport?”_ she picks up both bags before i can say a word. she borrows a tapedeck. i hold her knee. _is this ok?_ the postal service can’t ship this in a flat rate box. distance desires ritual we find a matchbook _what am i forgetting?_ ashen coffee. burning. the next thing i know we’re at the terminal. lipstick can stain more than cardboard cups **time stopped in total:** 14 hours, 28 minutes ## [bonfire](https://chromato.graphics/bonfire) we spin on turntables gift-wrapped bubbles plotting high treason one query hangs on a hook near my thigh _“how do you want to feel?”_ you produce three words two supple, one sharp relaxed. caregiven. surrender. we better not have another handle’s cold to the touch i hold your hand for warmth fetching a towel and water unfamiliar closet and faucet you aren’t used to this, are you? inside these walls, a forest i lead you down the worn path to a fire blazing at the center it’s just us dancing there — adjust angles, rhyme rhythms dig holes with feet and fingers you haven’t visited in years moonlight in an empty room i’ve never been, but will again draw maps into memory twist silver, pink, and blue the way back is circular ## [poke](https://chromato.graphics/poke) door opens— am i the fool? gloves snap, now i’m playing my role unstained steel tray cradles your tools you wash me clean, i cede control you sketch small leaves in purple ink i play with you, this is our game when it’s all done, what will they think? art, artist, work— all share a name calmly you ask “_ready for stabs?_” there’s not a way for me to know is this your temple or your lab? we share one breath, it’s time to go your sword and your eyes penetrate music and pain blanket my brain sometimes we should disregulate questions pour out, blood from a vein hours pass as you make passes pricks turn into private pleasure when we are through, our flesh collapses every mark is made forever ## [atlantic
  pacific](https://chromato.graphics/atlantic-pacific) i often wake three hours before your sunrise calls for a response logbook already soaked with ink we laugh, but even if we could, _why constrain our outporings?_ one winter day you ask for notes on undersea strings aware of both the timbre and tempo of these songs we start singing together i fall into an evening rhythm talking and yes moaning into the phonograph, my head then swallowed by the brassy cone our voices sound better inside when you open your ears again there’s so much weather to hear : wind and rain and quiet calm that lasts too long and means too much we keep sailing even without a map true, land divides us more than sea, but these two coasts call to us both maybe it’s the sirens or the sounds of wavecrash against the shore — the dangers of unfathomed depths ## [accident(ily)](https://chromato.graphics/accidentily) one fifty-four is not the hour to send texts, no autocorrect risky confessions clipped affections dimmed i love you’s from neon rooms could be a typo should i just lol or say her name, reply the same? an oops can’t erase the thrumming bass as juniper slips from her bruised lips tripping on her tongue _fuck. uhh. drunk. umm._ not that not yet or at least — not like this