Stories About Ourselves

Blue Christmas lights
Tell us stories about ourselves
I saw you biting yours nails
Through a pane of glass in that restaurant
Late night conversations when
You told me there were no stars
Just satellites

And I lay down in the shirt you used
As a towel when there were none
Left and that the stars were a felt
Blanket draped over tabletops of a
Smoke seeping factory (?) gestures

Bent puzzle pieces we are
Small cities tall buildings
This glass flipper is giving me blisters
Now
I'd prefer not