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It starts with you |
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on a mattress in your parents' old room, |
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clipping your toenails into the room |
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like the room will fade |
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and you will move |
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onto other rooms |
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and you will go |
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to other places. |
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Then the wedding, |
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Then the woman passed out |
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in the driver's seat |
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at the order board at White Castle. |
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We woke her up and she went |
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'round to the pick up window |
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like she knew exactly where she was. |
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Then I wept |
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with my face in your night shirt, |
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trying hard as hell to say |
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"until death separates us," |
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loosening the skin on your breastbone, |
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I painted your nails |
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and you sleep |
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while I write all this down. |
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There was a moth caught in the soapdish |
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laminated in lye |
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Will you still remember me well |
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If I don't get to two-o-o-five? |
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my dead line Gemini |
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When we're on different sides of the globe |
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I thought we'd keep our veins tangled |
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like a pair of mic cables, |
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And if there ain't enough slack to reach |
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that we'd solder them together |
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and across oceans they'd stretch. |
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Our faces reflected in separate windshields |
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and all our body hair pricked up |
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an elephant eyelash. |
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Should we be tempted by thief or saint |
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it seems I leave and you stay |
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to crawl the cage and curse. |
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But don't regret the done dirt, |
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there is no life plan set, |
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you just swallow the cold |
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and follow your breath until death. |
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Now even if the will to sleep persists |
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I can't 'cause a harsh cloth, it grazes my blisters. |
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There was a moth caught in the soapdish |
|
laminated in lye |
|
Will you still remember me well |
|
If I don't get to two-o-o-five? |
|
My dead line Gemini. |
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Today I fell asleep in a bath of hair. |
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Hair that once sprouted from my own |
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white wet chalk follicles. |
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I swallow a coal |
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and follow my breath |
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and I did it with the grapefruit soap |
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thinking of you. |
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Bathed, shaved, and oiled, |
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your legs are two skinny dolphins swimming |
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between the mattress and the layers of bedding |
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turning in your drug dry sleep. |
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When I ask you to kiss my pulse |
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you offer to start the shower. |
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I want a verb and you give me a noun. |
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What do you dream up while I tongue you down? |
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There was a moth caught in the soapdish |
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laminated in lye |
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Will you still remember me well |
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If I don't get to two-o-o-five? |
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My dead line Gemini. |
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You know my build. |
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You know my size. |
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The degree to which my eyes |
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are astigmatic. |
