We scoured the ceilings and light bulbs,
mistook stars in ashtrays full of gum.
Some of us got stuck there,
wading through mint and tobacco.
Some of us found a hole in
the windowpane, started to sing.
Others stopped registering color,
grew docile and flat as paper fans.
You were whispering my name
in arias. You were clinging to the color
red, trapping it between your teeth.
Come you said, holding it out to me.
For us to share.