Let’s Say Swoon More
I see clouds and think pancakes. If pancakes were the size
of clouds, who would go to work after breakfast? I judge
every wall by its lack of color. I judge every wall by the amount
of padding someone attached to it. If all of my poems
were romantic comedies, I would still have a roommate who never
shaved, and your girlfriends would still hate me the same amount
as they do now. Today I worry my joints are rusting. I bend
my toes and it sounds like a creaking door. You think the garage
door is opening. Next, you are screaming at the doctor The boy
I love is starting to feel like loose change! I am blushing for my heart
and everyone who cares for it. The doctor tells me to dry off better,
stay away from pools and the white foam on the tips of waves.
Out of the shower you put a blow dryer against my back,
make me sit outside so the sun can teach me a lesson.
While outside I think of clay pots, the opposite of skin cancer,
which is not having skin cancer. You carry me around in a wool cap.
I tell you I am doing my best to have already been a better person.
When I close my eyes, I try to smell tumbleweed. I always smell
the last sip of coffee. Soon, I will not live in a city where a CSI
TV show is based off its indiscretions. Watch me walk into a bar
and not order anything. In the backseat of my car your skin
is lighter than the worn leather. Ditch work, we’ll light fireworks
from our teeth, pretend our lips are on our necks. I say What do you
want to kiss first? You point to the warm spot in my throat.