A Tenement On Jones Street Poem by DAVE PAINTER

A TENEMENT ON JONES STREET

A string of clear rope lights hang overhead
"Those are stars" she said.
"We can't see the real ones from here
so these will have to do."
But the wine is real,
as the cap is unscrewed.

She told me that she loved me
with all her heart
but not her eyes.
I told her the same lies
but with me it was just
a matter of
thighs.

So here we sit under our
make believe stars
with no moon
and the flowered wallpaper hangs lifeless
between the curtains
We drink our wine and
make believe it is
tomorrow.