my hands are pacing,
driven wild by these
of vibrant boulevards
my fingertips could discover
upon crossing the bend
of your collarbone.
|You don't feel me in here, anymore.|
I stayed up all night painting your face so
I could beat the birds to crying your name
and the world would shudder and shake in two syllables
once the first glitters of dawn skittered across the horizon
and skipped across the tips of your blindfold eyelids;
I stayed up all night losing my sanity so
I could on auto-pilot put my body to work
and my hands would find a natural rhythm
in the swoop and crash of heat transfer
bobbing up and down in the waves of your skin;
I stayed up all night dancing so
I could prance through the doors of your dreams
and I would step and spin without your guidance
until your eyelashes fluttered awake with pride singing
and our distance would hum along with the song and close in;
I stayed up all night lighting fireworks so
I could pretend I was a sailor lost at sea
and you would find me shipwrecked at the shore
tame my soul's raging waves before the day could break
and giggle the whole way back to your lighthouse escape;
I stayed up all night writing these verses so
I could capture the firefly words to speak when your lips
first parted with the adieu of a yawn
and my tongue would sprinkle across them all
the te quiero's and ich liebe dich's my heart has been choking on.
Pieces of me are scattered across the city,
sleeping on storm drains, kissing their feet,
but I am unseen.
I giggle, "Hey, look. Those are my initials."
I point and recite, "M. E. S."
and the rise of his brow
whispers that he will never
be able to strip the memory of me
from these streets.
I smile and we take a step
Rain drips down the drain
and washes away my footprints
but my initials remain.
I am gone.
case eleven'can i come in? oh, please Johnny. for chrissakes, Johnny. just open the goddamn door already. i'm running out of cigarettes and i have places to be.'case eleven by diddlyhohum
it's funny that she says this because she has absolutely no place in the world to be. not a heart, a pair of ears, or a broken box spring is waiting for her. she could go home and open the windows and talk to herself out loud and curse a lot. she always talks, always curses. she had an unreasonably average childhood. her father and mother worked in the same building, even. they had dinner and argued over which program to watch. christmases were even worse. Aunt Tilly from 'goddamn New Jersey' always came down and she had this 'stupid, arrogant mole' on her face. it was like she was almost a beauty but her eyes were too small and her mouth was too big. she was just really mixed up, is what she was. anyway, so the lady outside Johnny's door had a horribly middle class, Americanized childhood. she often chased the ice cream truck and she fo