Since that first kiss in the lobby on Boerum Hill
I’ve fallen in love with Brooklyn, and the risky, yellow ledges 
of subway platforms, and the way a small pinpoint of light 
emerges out of darkness to whisk me away, if I want, 
to the island of bankers and foodies.  A village of monarchs 
flickers in my knees when she’s around. All I want 
is the pure speed of our hands pressing through the years, 
and occasionally, to eat scrambled eggs at midnight 
and her full-throated eyes, which will not apologize 
for learning to sing as men fell from skies like popped balloons.