Nods

The temperature continues to plummet, you run down
 an empty Brooklyn street in the middle of the night 
praying for a car but also laughing so that's what 
you'll remember. You were the best thing to happen 
to me in 2017 lingers in your eardrums, wraps itself 
around your drunken sleep, there's confetti stars on 
your eyelids and you part reluctantly with a year 
that's torn at your insides but strengthened your 
heartbeat and 2018 is cold and scary now but you are 
ready to make it grow you are ready to turn it 
into 
a 
fucking 
jungle  

This pot is equal parts water 
and gasoline.