from Transfer by Tyler Flynn Dorholt

Here the beginnings of going under unnoticed, that you arrive in this place a buoyant urge,
rippling atop avenues, cruising for the untouched underside, following the rip in a stocking

to Chinatown speak easies, an unlit Marlboro Red flopping on your parched tongue, as we’ve
been spoken to by ourselves far too long to not breach touch tonight, staring the main

language down the dance floor that pours over us, clink in the clink in the gasp, crush in the
crush in the clasp, flying out of glass to a party hosted by German twins, talking down

twenty French roamers conked on tequila and Ketamine, then talking them back up, up from
the floor, to reopen and outside for more and more and more.


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