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