through little roads tired car pokes on the track to Ordinary Joe's gatecrasher, purple shuttered, fort between two white picket fence houses tucked up half-pint box out of line on the line in cold, squeezed, lemonade sweet spring ambrosia to the lip of deep green blanket children sit on, play on running around shoes and socks thrown on sidewalk hot as frying pan crack an egg/hear it sizzle dotted trees all the same side to side rooms hide in cramped spaces like cubbies slips of lip like butter roll off snake tongues daggers pointed circus act on display or an animal in the zoo that doesn't fit in this topsy-turvy slide-show called life hackneyed stares glued in place on childish faces like a match of heads or tails cupped hands carry quarters for crank candy jars at mall, or pick-up sticks snatched from floor
I don’t like how the skin below my eyes gets cold after I’ve cried and my tears have dried.
I don’t like how, when I listen to a sad song, my eyebrows scrunch together and touch the frame of my glasses, and I can feel the hairs bristling against it.
I don’t like how my mascara comes off in clumps and takes my eyelashes with it, and I see the white tips where they were rooted in that precious skin that rims our eyes.
I don’t like how the heart-shaped, helium balloons that my parents got me for Valentine’s day float at the top of my ceiling and look like demons crawling across the ceiling when the light’s off.
I don’t like how I can’t be all one color, so I buy skin-colored nail polish and skin-colored lipstick, so that if I can’t blend into anything, I can at least blend in with myself instead of being a walking commodity of incongruities.
I don’t like how I can’t just pull bones out of my body and give them to people.
I don’t like how I can’t walk into rooms and fill up every nook and cranny with myself. I don’t like how I can’t expand and crowd into all the air around me everywhere I go, so that I never have to walk into a space and feel emptiness or smallness, because that chair refuses to wrap itself around me and the floor doesn’t soak up between my toes and the ceiling fall down and cover me like a blanket.