while I chase the sunshine
& clouds framing the
shape of your mouth like
who am I to think she can fly or
get that high
but it's Sunday.
I am
asking the air a favor
that your thinnest shirt might
remind you of me
that the next time you run
the sun could burn you some
that we might get a drink and
blink a thousand times in a bar
is nonsense
is
weekend news
like a shovel to help make your pretty bed
call me your
friend and
tell her yes
wake up again and against it
ask me
if I am
in love