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