the cab drivers always look hopeful
and the bicyclists always seem scared
but it feels like my ribcage birdhouse could stay
it’s my version of home that lives in my chest
past the honor of winters plaid sleeves and silver glasses
it’s room for just me and my clothespin wrists fold up to fit inside
and my braids tickle my nose while i’m there
i can get anywhere from there
and it’s exactly where i always return
there’s a dinosaur on the corner of my favorite place
and all his friends remind me to stay happy
as they stand by and good bye the places i need to go
and i walk up the thousand and six stairs to the top
more alone than i wanted to be
and i am quiet
and i listened but that was the day that the city shut up
and i’m always looking for motorcycles out of the corner of my eye because you pause conversation to watch them fly by
and i know for a moment there your head gets lost
just exactly where you like it
or at least i think you like it
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
the cab drivers always look hopeful
and the bicyclists always seem scared
but it feels like my ribcage birdhouse could stay
it’s my version of home that lives in my chest
past the honor of winters plaid sleeves and silver glasses
it’s room for just me and my clothespin wrists fold up to fit inside
and my braids tickle my nose while i’m there
i can get anywhere from there
and it’s exactly where i always return
there’s a dinosaur on the corner of my favorite place
and all his friends remind me to stay happy
as they stand by and good bye the places i need to go
and i walk up the thousand and six stairs to the top
more alone than i wanted to be
and i am quiet
and i listened but that was the day that the city shut up
and i’m always looking for motorcycles out of the corner of my eye because you pause conversation to watch them fly by
and i know for a moment there your head gets lost
just exactly where you like it
or at least i think you like it
September 2013
First Draft
