i

it is the beautiful subtleties of persons to which i turn when my heart is most troubled and dripping down my organs like wax:

1. the young man with the leather jacket
and big headphones
when he did me a tiny half-smile
and promptly looked at the sidewalk cracks
(eye contact makes me nervous too)

2. "Larry, you **** close to running into a lady, scoot"
(because a little girl in a backpack
matters to a big farmer in overalls)

3. when the lady with the cats and crooked teeth gave me her first strawberry

4. courtesy laughs for Professor John

5. the old lady at the park (every morning at 9:00) who lets her dog
really
stop and smell the flowers

6. the hug from the smelly, long haired boy
whose car i backed up into
"it's no big deal," he said
(and a girl who didn't like being embraced, loved being embraced)

when the world sinks its teeth into my neck
beautiful unnamed faces flash into my mind
and my atmosphere is clean
and i am brimming with gratitude

if you wake before i do
and leap through the window of reality
away from the rabbits that talk colors
the ever-changing shapes of this and that-
and the upside-down house where the ladies practice dancing
feel free to finish the cereal
and leave the door hanging wide open

i hate to share my bed
and i don't like to be woken up

little girl where are you
are you back hiding in the closet
picking beads out of the carpet
and humming
harboring James the bear under your arm?

little girl why won't you answer me
were you hypnotized by the silent spirits
all dancing-singing-playing
and enticed to the back-beyond
where it's too good to leave?

little girl when are you coming back
after the the long winter
and the hard rains
when the nothings have turned into daisies
and the old man stops snoring?

little girl
i only wanted to come with you

i know that all your kisses and your kisses and your kisses
in the rain and in my bed and in your car
pile up and wake me in the mornings
and paint me a curious picture
of a salacious dreamland
and a sweet demise

feel not, want not, oh
we live a great fantasy
you and juicy tastes

in my dreams
i am an animal with claws and fangs and degree of sorcery and charm comparable to that of the sweetest witch you never knew

the allurement of my radiation enough to butter up even a sad, coarse piece of sandpaper like you
and lead you to my web of delusion
willingly
where i tangle and untangle you
until your bones are soup
and your clothes are off

in my dreams i am a menacing night-creature
and in real life
i am the dishes in the sink