I Only Care About Your Happiness

There was a problem last night,

with the shaking yellow crystals
through which your garage light was
refracted in a dozen amber waves,

where the broken folding chair
took its kingdom with the smoke
and left me or you to the floor,

in the angle of my tendons
shaded by the jagged tension
in your absent tooth-smile,

brought upon while I
brushed your knee
accidentally,

when your phone struck
concrete.