When you have a second,
I can show you what happens
after you take something meant
to be so deliciously singular
and trick it into becoming
part of a collection.

Just let me see if I can
fit under this microscope.
I'm sure the findings
will be worth writing down.

I don’t find it odd
to enjoy giving pleasure.
Here, let me prove it.

Too many layers.
Peel them off of me slowly.
Don’t worry. You’re next.

He dipped his fingertips in the birth bath—
mesmerized by the ripples he created.

"When we were kids," he said,
"I remember we'd try to see
how long we could hold our breath
under the water."

"It's funny, isn't it?" she asked.

"What is?"

"How we just try
to keep our heads
above it now."

The little boy unclenched
his sticky fist,
freeing his blue balloon
into the wide open sky.
"If you can fly,
then I shouldn't stop you,"
he said to the balloon
as it floated
                           out
                          ­           of
                                            sight.

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#imissthespacebarsomuch                                            
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Woke up thinking that
all days are great days for humps;
one just got lucky.

So ice cleats look weird?
I bet they look **** ****
right after you slip.

If it's a sin
to keep things interesting,
let's misbehave.

Boy mentions chapped lips.
She's willing to share her own.
Hands need not apply.

Can't help it— when I
see ink sink into paper,
I think: me on you.

At work, I pretend
to be that bright red balloon
freed in open skies.