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HAIBUN
the smell of rain visits your desk. you can hear grills extinguishing up the street, arms no electricity, ache no rubbing, blood no cloth. smoking an overheated heart that only wants to ride again, the type of pedaling that overlooks dripping shins, is unexhausted unbothered even in the congested (six? seven lane?) area near the zoo… in your room we plot another dip in the ocean before fall really sets in, another chance to ruin the vibe, make things uncomfortable for another fifteen hours. pale hazy rays lick legs damp, aching for better. the head and the heart can't even agree to disagree, they only stutter electricity into my blood. wheel in the ocean gripless, rolling and pungent we spend our sadness on trinkets we hold close what i once read described as a ghost wedged between love expanding the length of our city. as long as i've been old enough to take myself to the beach, i've never just had a great day there. ours was the only suite without bedbugs that nite, but things didnt shift till later, after much. how many more exorcisms? youre wrinkling i'm drying out in different ways (than) with age, i am marked i am a bad time. still, the freshly-paved shines deep and beautiful black after downpours and we hold hands with wet slippered steps overheated heart stuttering electric blood fifteen long hours endless waiting for whats known as accessible don't give up on me |
