Best Poem of A.j. Binash

Sometimes The Night Is Kind To Me
It’s 3am.
I open my bedroom window
To smoke a cigarette.
A car door slams,
Footsteps sprint to the neighbor’s door.
It’s the paper delivery.
I shout:
“Hello! ”
Watch them turn their head
To identify the voice.

The phone rings.
The cell phone’s illuminating screen
Hurts my eyes.
. . .
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A Long Way Back Home
I compared the miles of her train-ride
With the words we used
To explain our madness.
Proposed
A relative notion
(As my tongue
Screamed into the receiver)
“Pay attention
To the passion
Used
In my volume.
Please ignore the voice.”
I asked her
To pretend like my touch
I . . .
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