i do, even when I don't
believe, I mean
hope, secretly
wish on broken fairy lights
broken wishes find nothing better to hold onto
how many man does it take to fix a light bulb?
none, I whisper
i have not known enough men in my life, just voices of authority and temporary solace
who hide under the mask of being men
what does it mean, to be men, women, birds, martyrs, dying honey bees in a terrible monsoon
within drenched realities of potholes and puddles
where my childhood still jumps and scrapes it's knees
i never knew what it felt to have butterflies erupt in my stomach
and feel their flutter in my laughter, they scare me, all winged insects do
i have been mocked before,
my fear of insects misunderstood,
but i'm not scared of wings
or to trip into a world with no meaning,
not that our existence holds any either way
i am not scared, honestly, of the rhetorics of daily routines and internalized desires
to have warm soup when my body burns with fever
fevers are good,
fevers make me burn and no one else holds the match sticks
and I know that the fireworks that erupt as headaches as my fever worsens are here to stay but only temporarily,
just like the fireworks in my heart that certain people set free
i am scared of winged insects,
and of people who set fireworks instead of butterflies in my skin and bones,
but I am not scared of wings.

I'm getting gone.
I'm getting gone.
And the daisies are tryin' to move.
I'm getting gone.
And the sunrise is tryin' to come early too.
I'm getting gone,
And we stayed out late last night.
Tuesday morning we've got an early flight.
But if you aren't ready to go, I'll get dressed for us both.
We're getting gone.
Red pants and these Tom Ford shades.
You'll wear your Rick Owens sneakers and jacket onto the plane.
We survived another night on the road,
Now we've got to wake up before we're eating yesterday's dinner tomorrow.

We're getting gone.
And the neighbor's are going to keep complainin'
We're getting gone.
And we hold our tongues out even when it's not rainin'.
We're getting gone.
Let's get coffee and eat some LSD.
Smoke three cigarettes and then we'll leave.
We're getting gone.
Red pants and these Tom Ford shades.
You'll wear your Rick Owens sneakers and jacket onto the plane.
We survived another night on the road,
Now we've got to wake up before we miss another tomorrow.
We're getting gone.
We're getting gone.

But hold up 'cause I'd like to know you
I'll kiss your neck if you'll touch my face
Let's be a stereotype and make them wait all the time,
Ten more minutes, is that really the worst lie?

(Break)

We're getting gone.
And the girls and boys are running us down.
We're getting gone.
I can't remember, what's the name of this town.
We're getting gone.
**** my tongue while I turn you on.
I'll **** your tongue while you turn me on.

He picked up a pebble
and threw it into the sea.

And another, and another.
He couldn't stop.

He wasn't trying to fill the sea.
He wasn't trying to empty the beach.

He was just throwing away,
nothing else but.

Like a kitten playing
he was practicing for the future

when there'll be so many things
he'll want to throw away

if only his fingers will unclench
and let them go.

-Norman MacCaig