in my dream you were
running like a rat
wearing your fingertoes like
hydrangeas and heartache
in your head
where all the nice things passed out
we built barbed fences around our heart
to keep it still
like a ghastly statue
i had no clue
in my dream you were
planting apple seeds
in a corn field
i gave you a knife
became a mermaid
the last child
and a sea
in my dream you were
shining like a sun
brainlike exploding
having planets around
like flower crown
in my dream
you were
warm mug i'd left at home
three a.m. and homework not done
a highschool girl
long forgotten
in a potrait on your identity card

she was leaving
and got the gumption
to see me before she did
so we went to dinner
she sat, crumpled
at the edge of the booth
playing with her silverware
hands sweating
our knees barely touching
underneath the table
they shook like the day we met
they shook like floodgates
when the clouds get upset
her hair was drawn back
into an apology
and she didn't answer
when the waiter asked for drinks
she pans, tilts
looking for the restroom
but doesn't get up
covers her mouth
to hide her furled chin
i cut her a piece of bread
not sparingly
i didn't want to ruin the symbolism
of cutting a gangrenous thing
from ones self
she half wept out "tell me a joke"
i thought to say "look at us."
that's it. that's the joke.
the premise & the punch line
sharing some silence
here in this ominous moment
so thick with goodbye
you could touch it
i said "when they asked what the name was for the wait, i should've said "awkward, party of 2"
but that's not the joke
"knock knock"
she whispered "who's there?"
i sat for a moment and said
"so we've come full circle.. we're even in the same seats, from all those months ago"
her lips quivered
and she hid her mouth
"i just wanted to hear a joke"
she said
i came back with
*"if i fell for you in a quiet restaurant & no one was around to hear it, does the laughter of children i drempt we'd have make a sound?"

Your skin smells like sharpie and the third
page of my sketch book. How it glows in
the dark reminds me of this one mermaid
whose hair keeps falling. I don't know how
she isn't bald yet. She does not cry, her
milky eyes seem to be so calm yet so
immoral, pearl-like greasy beam like some
oil spills on the ocean.

You have eyes like marine birds and that is
what truly makes me afraid.

Your nose is a branch of that fig tree I
killed during the last time I was trying to
find Narcissus. I remember that that day
Echo and I cried like mermaids and from
our eyes fell pearls and we did not wonder
at all why it did not hurt. It was a good
sign, kind of good like caution wet floor.
You know how I wish I could hang it in
front of my bedroom door.

You keep biting your lips only to keep the
blood flowing. I cannot say that I have
never seen waterfall as iron as that. I only
can give you tons of salt and you can use
that on your lips at midnight or when you
wake up from a nightmare at 4 a.m.

You grow hibiscus on your throat and
every time you speak all I can hear is the
pink and yellow and red and ants.

You have breath like motion sickness and
the dusty bench in front of the library. I will
go inside and become a ****** book 'til the
rest of my life. I will stay as pure as ever
when I am burned along with the library.

Your ears sound like lullaby and world war
three. You see, history is falling asleep so
peacefully, just like Mother Teresa or
Gandhi.