She is a better gambler than friend    always late
her fiery pony-tail swinging    gatecrashing the party

pockets stuffed with bus tickets           annihilating me
               in the jukebox glow of last orders        demanding

I buy a round                  peel an orange                teach her to fly
              breathing life into me like an iron lung

              I see her sauntering beside me                             cackling wildly
eating all the crisps       her almost human face a mirror of my own

If I take her home she’ll rearrange kitchen knives
               eat toast in bed        leave crumbs on my pillow

mark her territory in spit and fog on my bedroom window
               limbs intertwined          tongues cement thick

In her sharp metallic morning I expand with an accordion wheeze
              my hair flowing through her twisted metal

               I remember my red plastic purse on the bureau
the money stolen last spring   She is hateful

but when she leaves I miss her             bury my hairbrush in the dirt
             under the elm tree to lure her back

             Listen for laughter in the stammer of the bannister
smell her spite in the thermostat’s hiss           I am alone

with midnight whispers             chest tight      holding fast
             to the walls of my shiny chamber

We are survivors of each other             her frigid hands
still holding mine as they wheel my broken body from the bellows