framed in red light as we move towards the corner it grows larger while you grow smaller and i hope i can remember the image of you smiling while the projection reflected off your glasses with your hair too long in the back and your jeans always several sizes too big and your black t shirt. your underwear was my favorite color that day.

what if i can’t stop thinking about that day

when you took me to the feminist modern art exhibit at your favorite museum across town

holy ****

and kissed me in the starlight room

and i thought, ******* you are good.

i always liked the chipped bowl best.

i always liked

your crooked teeth

your frayed jeans

your broken boots

and i liked the scarf i made

with the holes

and the strings

and i like when my hair is a mess

and i like when my tights show skin

and i liked your ****** up parts.

because everyone who knows me past my second middle name would tell you that i crash hard and i don’t wear a helmet

it wasn’t so much that you caught me

it was more like i was running sprinting hurdling

and i crashed into you like the world’s lankiest brick wall

but you’re picking up the pieces

i know this is might not be a good thing, but hey, at least you wear a helmet.

continuity

expression

there are others just like you on the

merry, go, round,

stop

motorcyclemotorcyclemotorcycle

whack

you kissed me in the street

before putting on your helmet

earlier you told me that you see too many things to laugh at

and i thought maybe your long legs under the table weren’t such a bad thing

clockparts.com
i fell in love with dali’s ghost

on the day i kissed the 34-mile horizon

i watched his clocks melt away

so i made him a new one and painted it purple sky and yellow sun and lavender clouds and ochre rays

and he filled it with the ace of spades

this isn’t well-crafted surrealism

it’s your story spent