When someone hops steps two at a time
it reminds me of a friend I use to have.
She left for some reason, but if you hop
two steps at a time, you’ll remind me of her,
of Nine Stories, and dog watching, and cats
who eat grass at home.
Everybody’s mad at me.
I use to be happy too frequently.
On a roof in Brooklyn I liked everyone,
and they me.
Later, some of them told me they were lying.