Talk to me Talk to me about half-finished journals and empty theaters Talk to me about the calluses on the soles of your feet Do you think they look like art? Talk to me about the bobby pins stuck between the sheets of your bed Talk to me about the broken doorbell in your childhood house Why have you never gotten it fixed? Do you think it says a lot about your family? Do you think it’s a metaphor for your parents’ relationship? Talk to me about the ghosts in your head I wanna see if they look like mine If they were friends in some past, unfulfilled life Talk to me about kites Talk to me about knee high socks What do they remind you of? Talk to me about spilled lemonade Does the sourness still linger on your tongue Long after the mess as been mopped up? Talk to me about your 10th grade English teacher Do you resent her blatant favouritism? Do you wonder why she didn’t like you the best? Do you ever wonder why It seems like nobody likes you the best? Talk to me about the peonies in the garbage chute Talk to me about untied shoelaces And an 8 year old’s skinned knees Talk to me about slippery floors Talk to me about illegal downloads Talk to me about Tarsiers Talk to me about oil pastels Do you prefer them over any other art medium Because they are dirtier, messier and more difficult to work with it? Talk to me about recycling Do you think it’s pointless? Or do you think it’s gonna make a significant difference? Talk to me about Broadway musicals Talk to me about Hercules Have you ever dreamed of being immortalized Through the whispering of the stars? Talk to me about god Do you think god made man Or did man make god? Talk to me about clay pots Talk to me about cacti Talk to me about the color grey Talk to me about plastic balloons When did you learn that the art of letting go Is closely intertwined with the tragedy of loss? Talk to me about films Talk to me about knuckles What do you tell your grandmother When she asks why they are bruised and wounded? Talk to me about Geishas Talk to me about roadtrips And that one time when you were 15 And you drove away in your older brother’s car Feeling young and reckless and so so alive Talk to me about pain Every stabbing hurt Every mouth filled with blood Talk to me about joy Both the abundance and the lack of it Talk to me about love And warmth And light And the sound of coming home Talk to me Write your life’s story on torn Christmas wrappers And I will hold them in my hands like sacred beads of prayer Talk to me Open the cracks of your spine and engulf me in the shade of your eyes Talk to me