I

Admire my patience
in the grave in Sunset Park.

As my marrow decomposes
among old exacta tickets,

pizza crust and coffee grounds,
still I plan to meet you

one more night at Angelo's
for Mai Tais in frosted glasses.

II

Though I died of love
followed by a bullet, and lie

on the wrong side of granite,
I practice telling you

how the light traps the madder
in your complicated hair