I found a necktie on the street, a handmade
silk tie from an Italian designer. Keep me,
it pleaded from the trash. There’s probably
a story it could tell me of calamity days long ago.
Then yesterday, tying a Windsor knot around
my neck, I heard voices, Why have you got
that old tie on? Suddenly, Mason, Roy, Jimmy,
and Miguel were pulling at my arms, like it was
the ’80s again, a darksome decade, with another
hard-right president. My lips were not yet content
with stillness. We were on our way home
from a nightclub. I adore you, Miguel moaned,
but have to return now. Remember
death ends a life, not a relationship.