sweetheart, i spent the day opening windows and
blowing smoke out of them, all my particles getting
all mixed up in everything else's. i want to be remembered
me for my beauty, and you for your madness.
it's not been a normal sort of year. it hasn't been since
childhood, before normal sorts of years became a thing.
i love you, i love you, i love you. all day, letting all kinds of
particles in and out, in and out, in and out.
i had a dream last night you kissed my sister on the mouth.
i find myself folded in sheets, listening to you making coffee upstairs,
smelling the night on my breath, sour like bad meat, my belly
an endless, whorl of a drain, and adrenaline affecting unexpected
parts of me. you come in with your papercut smile too sharp to grab hold of,
too unknowable to ever know; but your kiss is good, you are innocent. i feel like i'd
doubt myself a million times before i ever doubted you.
i don't trust god, i don't trust the law, and i don't trust you. i don't trust
anybody who's ever looked at me cross-eyed, including myself. your mouth is
pliable, tensile, strong, eager, quick. i trust it better than i trust you, like
an animal it's a truth-teller, changing shapes. i love you, i'm sending particles
at you, in and out.
it's time to leave the windows open in our houses. spring is here, lifting
old tobacco from my note paper, illuminating dust and smudge.
wait for my signal if you know it;
in the summer i will be healthy and sincere. one day you and i
will have six barefoot children roaming around our little wood house in big sur,
and we will sell pickles and beer for a living, and the only
fights we ever have is over who already filled in the crossword,
right sweetheart, and whose turn it is to give the dog a bath.
