girlwife—tonight, again—as we stand on the patio of our friendship—is it wrong to toast you and you only—in this dull quilt of stars? Fireworks reflect—red—white—on brick buildings—it’s too low here to see—girlwife—I am wrapped in a halo of heat—I shower and air sticks to me—girlwife, I am—I am too much for any one—I am lonely for you—but I am lonely for me—knowing our distance—that we aren’t lovers, that we will make other families—that these are lonely things—we do on our own—girlwife, let’s go back to our apartments, and turn off the lights—let’s agree there’s a sky—too big and still—exploding