If I were a girl
My name would be scarlet

Like the letter “A”
on Hester Prynne’s chest

Or Ms.Johansson
drifting around Tokyo
Bill Murray-less

Or that red dress
dancing amidst
Spielberg’s black and white ghetto

You should know,
we were lost, once
in translation and sight

Patched sentences
on each other’s pants
and foreheads and hearts

and we’ve scurried
from our own gestapo

Now naked, transparent umbrellas
we let rain hit on our backs
like whiplashes

Flowing, thin yarns
of ghosts in two cities.
When you come back-

I want that whisper in my ear,
unintelligible to everything else but us,
even to the devil.