I am still waiting for the lion
you quit wearing pants loaf around your yard in hole-nipped panties
Even from this distance I could go out the door it would bang shut and crumble
Ghosts for hire, whispers in her mouth, cysts to feel, the symmetry of a gift.
Gravel-scatted hell & we were blessed to be able to hold on for even a heartbeat
Even as the sun warms the concrete the long nights’ sensual cold lingers in my clothes.
He has stories that I am not in anymore. It’s healed this way.
Mostly he ate what was put on his plate snuck coffee grounds or dirt for a snack Once a zipper Unzipped
here is the sky in stop motion, flickering, a still shot in monochrome
I suffer visions and many indignities while looking for the Lobster
it’s touch-and-go with me and weddings
It is the 70s. 1970s? 2570s? Who knows? Audre and I have a penthouse in New York.
you know that baby swallows make silver ripples in wild rivers to court reeds?
In my universe, my arm carries a heart and flowers, my back a misguided quote
Just starlight and some small scribbling across vinyl.
Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time
Do not say anything anybody else has said ever. Things are not “bleached by sun.”
You’ve spent a lifetime training for this.
I myself should never have been born