My head is filled up with paper cranes
& I’m trying this new thing out
where I look through people’s
bullshit to find the love inside them.
My problem was that it
was always too easy
to see yours.
(Your problem was that
it was always too hard.)
Maybe this is where it
starts, or maybe
where it ends –
your echo as he tried
his best, but it was all for naught –
We are black letters
punched onto paper, you&I, and
you are the last thing I remember.
----------------------------
I want to break your heart.
Say shut up & cover red mouths
red blood thumbs
Say baby, why don’t you pour
me another whiskey
(I want more boots &
I want people to call me a
dyke, does that answer your question?)
I want to make you shake.
We are supposed to sit
close and create things
like words. We are knitted like
knobbly white thread
woven into a sweater that I wear
for comfort.
I’ll go back to Italy and forget you.
--------------------------------
Tell me secrets that you wear
under your dress, and what is left
after you wasted your day
Even as we walk & we
leave carcasses trailing after us
spilling out of our pockets
and stranded on the sidewalk –
Empty snail shells
Empty drinking cups
Empty chairs.
Be terrified.
I want you to,
Get caught up, sucked
under. Take that risk.
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