i sift through obituaries on the offhand occasion that you are tucked inside one that your soft pale skin is pressed beneath the ground locked up in a cage of nails and planks i send up a flower every time i can't find your name but it never stops it never stops you are dead to me but your life reminds me of its defiance time and time again washing up on a shore, bloated hanging from a rope, neck broken sleeping in the white, wrists open you told me how a shard of a plastic cup was more than a plastic cup you told me how you didn't trash the utensils because they were afraid for you you told me of the drugs and the dreams and the infinite bare walls that dragged you back under you told me you never wanted to return but this was the same ringing silence i felt months before you did and what's the difference if you tell me i think i'm going to step in front of this car and i say please don't i will miss you what's the ******* difference in skates and netted tights and a one-sided goodbye at a derby game if you don't get to see the end but I do if the white room is just another place you go to at the end of the day because you aren't okay but your mother won't say it otherwise where's the humorous irony in a mess like this? please don't show up in the ******* obituary.
like those moments in harmony when i say "you drive" and you say "i drive" and the universe concurs that the one of us will tip our head back and the other one of us will clench the wheel-- wherein both parties reap the spoils of our little zero-sum game because i get to leave the ground "don't stop" kicking up gravel with the heels of the rubber and you get to feel the earth "let me go" leaving acrid smoke and burning metal and then, there, that somewhere in the middle i win and you win and the windows close us back up against the cold whiplash of sand and air and the sums cancel out like they always, always have.
we're losing the moon and the oceans and skies are burning but the craters beneath them do not alter they shrink away from the heat they take a chunk out of the shoulder of the earth instead and the moon draws back aghast it is going it is warming beyond the horizon and before the next dawn we are losing the moon to a hole in the fabric of the space wall.
you curl your fingers around the nape of the passenger seat and the cold metal stings but you can feel the ghost of the prey brush your body like the streetlights on the backseat last night before you clutched the headrest and you reach in the dark but your hands miss the leather
the warm body heat of the car thrumming up beneath you slams your head into the dashboard where the light turns from a bruised yellow to a crippled red you are awake again the steering wheel is cooler than you remember smoother, sleeker, stealthy the wheel will turn the predator around in a circle because it seems to mimic itself where in mimicry it is found oh tyger tyger simmering out you drive. the gear shift does not obey when you push it up rough and messy but it locks in gear while you wrap your fingers around the curve and grind to a halt in the road you cannot make this cliff. the light in the dash blinks. the trunk is opening and the vehicle is still moving you roll down your window to ask the night a question in the glazed white of moonlight that is so much like forgetting will this road take me back to Del Sol and the Girl Who Lost Her Lover on Route 66? she doesn't respond but that is okay because the vehicle is still moving and the leather is slick between your thighs and you are going down tonight you will descend. the night will draw you home. goodnight lover.
this was started out as two simultaneous stories but obvious i digressed (again?)
im wrapping these lights around the balustrade? of my stairs and i thought they looked beautiful but now that im stepping off my chair they don't look that nice um they look sloppy and tacky like the ones off the side of a Mexican restaurant i wonder how natalie portman decorates her christmas lights. they must be nice. i used tape she probably gets someone else to stick it up anyways but the tape is pretty when the light hits it and the colors blend and stutter like it's trying to short circuit the tape but the tape is swimming in it even though there is only light in glass in light i stick the tape on the wall. there is something psychedelic about holding a handful of rainbow lights alone on a chair until they start spilling over and you tilt your neck to see where they go but there is only the ground there is only the ground there is no where to fall into but the light is moving again because you are the tape and you are standing on the chair where the glass blooms with filaments that you touch and suddenly you are swimming in colors that don't seem sloppy and tacky anymore. you pull the plug. the house is bright again.