the television sings
the satellite dish keeps twirling on the rooftop with no signs of slowing
I think I've meant to catch it, keep binoculars close
in case it gets too dizzy and ends up on the front yard again
the neighbors sunbathe **** and the sun
hides behind the trees of second hand embarrassment

soup in the spring
I can taste again
there's a photo of me riding a horse
but I wouldn't be able to describe the feeling to you
always the horse
never the horse girl
he kissed my hand like a gentleman
and I fed him an apple
coming back home they ask why my knuckles are bleeding
I say I got too close and a kiss sometimes involves teeth

there's a newspaper that gets delivered
when it rains it soaks & slithers on the front porch
melting into the cement
I never pick it up
I don't have an address
but it reminds me of Sunday morning
it used to cover a male face
there's a clearing of a throat and the sipping of black coffee
it's 2004 and the president is my father's favorite person
I'm used to living in tiny spaces
stir-crazy is reserved only for the *****-inducing extrovert
but as I turn on the light
the yellow glow reminds me of being inside an egg
I feel like I did in 8th grade when I was perpetually blushing
and all the girls in my classroom asked me why I was so nervous
I have flashes of a lemon tree
I was born nervous I tell them
the rest of the year is spent in silence

there's a bed-frame with names carved into them
slightly-askew and frail
a heart at the top of every 'i'
all my underwear has blood stains on it
it's a lovesick reminder of everything I can't control
I yearned for my mother to put my hair in braids instead of a ponytail
so I got a friend that could
my hands would sweat as I wrote about her in my diary
the one without a lock
the one that was covered in DIY glue glitter
there was a summer that I wore all pink
my strawberry ice cream melted all over my polo dress and no one could tell the difference
it was my secret, sugar sweet on the lapel
beating heart for all the Lisa Frank I didn't own
a boring folder with all the scary stories I had memorized
until I myself became the ghost girl
sucker punch me in the last bathroom stall
for neither liking leather or lace

I got braces when I was 16
that year I never kissed anyone
but I made boys steal things from pricy bookstores
I measure time by my teeth
every year they get more crooked
the older I get they seem to shift back to old territory
old habits
old

now even smoking cigarettes feels boring
when I walk into bookstores
I leave sticky notes with advice I wish someone would have told me then

they did
but maybe if I had found it somewhere I was looking
I might have paid more attention
my retainer sits in a shelf collecting grime

I drink pink grapefruit flavored drinks
my face smells like the citrus
when I lose things and people
I change my hair
it helps me cope with the idea that I can never finish a stick of lip balm and most of the people I've known only yield disappointment
no one is at fault here
but the blame is usually pushed into my intestines
and I spend five days throwing up
I used to be afraid that I would never see the entire world
now I'm afraid I'll never spend enough time in a place I can call home
every morning the smell of grapefruit grows stronger

the champagne tastes bitter
my head swims and I think
maybe I need a bathing suit

maybe i'll never see god but the
breeze keeps touching my face
and the insects **** my blood
disease my legs and that's okay
because there's a part in me that has difficulty taking my watch off and there's a part in him that has difficulty taking his shoes off
despite the harmony I feel there's a head in the back of my own
that tells me that solitude would not suffice for such a shy creature that only wants warmth from another
there, there
there