I live in double time: third date with you
xxxand weekly dalliance with my ex
taking place in one gallery. Or two.
In one, you talk about the photo next
xxxto one I like, its night roads lit
like our bodies after burning sex.
The other holds him staring at a chit
xxxof a girl scrubbing a doorway,
open to one returning from the street.
Though details can be edited, you say,
can't get the black of these old prints today.