escaping the fire with a double steeped green tea and “i wrote this for you.” drifting to subtle guitar and storybook lyrics. cozy in forgetting. i thought of him today. but only briefly at 9 am. place those ideas in pockets with used tissues and pennies that cannot buy anything. listen to the fire engines and neighborhood alarms. simply sigh into the metal rails ironed to my spine. keep reading poems that i will quote when relevant.
-THE FLOOR TAKES SO LONG TO HIT-
You took me down. And now, you have made everything that is sad, relevant.
commotion. teasing stop lights. the click of shoes down pavement. my lips are full of peppered cars leaving taillights. a shaken mind. i’d ask for his affection. oh i’d seek it in bustling Friday nights with arms around waists. leading lovers to liquid satisfaction. i’d seek it in the hollow spaces between my fingers. this separation anxiety. tug my hair. pull it into a rope around my simple thoughts on love. the easiness to pour oneself empty for the enjoyment of another. cluster those feelings for you if demanded. but i think the dizziness of lights has me confused.