university train

the girl across the hallway
breaks glass at night, i think systematically.
all day she collects bottles in the streets and the park
and then smashes them piece by piece in the bathtub under cover
of darkness. when i can’t sleep i sit in the
eyeball glow of my computer screen and listen to her shatters,
listen to the cure, and breathe like robert smith.

i used to think i’d be friends with someone like her
but she’s just a head on the door. piecemeal, i fling
my fingers up towards the ceiling, exulting in the shadows
that burst out on the white wall; i don't even try to see in the dark.
‘i make myself so sick,’ she murmurs into the dark of her bathroom,
and at 2:48 i go into my own bathroom and stare at myself
with my hair over my eyes like robert smith
and experimentally, I smash a wine glass.