I slept naked in my bed last week
and woke up freezing cold
exposed under thin sheets
the peach on my windowsill
is ripe now
and right now
I want to tell you that
the motion under my skin
comes in electric waves

I move in electric waves

and when I find you I’ll say “hello,
nice to meet you”
I’ll be polite
‘cuz you can’t tell strangers
about sleeping naked—
you have to say:
“hello, nice to meet you”
you can’t say:
“the peach on my windowsill
is finally ripe
so I’m actually doing pretty well”

(I fell asleep in my cloths last night
and woke up warm)

I’m having this recurring dream
of rotting strawberries
too sour to save
(I didn’t eat them soon enough
my fault,
my fault)
it was chilly on my bike ride home
I rode alone
in high gear up the hill—
almost there, never here
almost home—
it’s nearly october
I feel older now that I have to
rotate the dish towels
when they get dirty
(usually once a week)
I am cold in the house,
I am always cold
I am
I am
not really sure who I am
—still— there’s a peach
on my windowsill,
almost ripe

the bulldozer is left behind
by workmen who finished their shifts
at five, clocked out and went home
not caring much about sticky tar
that hasn't yet dried

the bulldozer is frozen, mid-action—
so close to the orgasmic satisfaction
of permanence

the bulldozer glistens
under the meteor shower,
standing in the final hour
separating yesterday from today

(let me tell you about the meteor shower, now;
it knew nothing of its own beauty
and lasted not a moment too long)

high-pitched summersongs
dissipate in my ears
I have not seen the sea in over a year
my tears are saltysweet
to make up for this oceanic absence

an open window in the night
has caused a stream of water
in my bedroom to form
from wall to wall

this river, however weak,
is an excuse to stay in bed
just a little longer

I will linger 'till daybreak,
'till nightbreak,
'till I break
into pieces so small
that this trickle
will be my ocean

mid-afternoon and I’m asleep behind my eyes
dreaming about the most vibrant
shade of blue I’ve ever seen

I am growing up
like a flower bending towards the sun
(I am too young for headaches like these)
please paint my white-washed skull
with a fresh coat of blue

let me see something new,
let me see something new

last night
you were telling me about a girl
who you may or may not kiss
someday,
and even though it might just be
a stupid crush,
I was crushed
by the emptiness in my own voice
when I didn’t have a somebody
to tell you about