If we leave the litter behind,
and run until our legs become a burden and our heads start to swell and come loose like a white-cloth-Arabian-silk turban,
we can make it home before 5.

Past the market that only makes sense in the sun,
along the terraces slipping from their foundations,
skip on-top of walls before falling back into our run
behind the street of seared spice smells, conjured up by different nations.

We’ve left the litter behind.

We’d run further than these cities and their boundaries,
take transport to the tops of heavenly high hills,
cause havoc amongst the machinery of the foundries
and make it home for five if we run through those mills.

We’ve left the litter behind.

Holding hands we’ll remember the brush of the grass on our thighs,
farmer’s fields and the dark brown cut-throughs we took,
our pockets full of receipts and chewing gum supplies
and the look of your pale blue eyes amongst your fresh air haircut.

I hope the litter don’t mind.

minds crazy
again confusing

love

for broken bones,
all night we ask

for help, who
comes?  you

sway to bird
and saxaphone

rejoice at
near-miss

rescue

escapee, we
tried to give you

baskets
of reasons

not to love us unconditionally
but you love us unconditionally

so we sleep
in the hand
of the sky

I am in the middle of a thunderstorm
but not nearly naked enough
not nearly happy enough
but letting the rain wash through my hair and sprinkle across my arms
because I am finally realizing
that I have been bored for so long, now.

And I need a ******* change.

I'm afraid to tell you that I am not joking when I say that
your eyes shine brighter than my own smile
and I'm not really sure what being in love feels like,
but if it's not this,
then it's not worth it.
The grease has piled on top of my face and head and heart
but you cleanse it with every pointed star
and squinted eye looking at me parallel to my shoulders
our chests perfectly in line.
I always have to catch my breath when the amount of clothing covering your torso
changes reality to a daydream,
but not even trophies match the fluttering I feel when you look me in the eye to tell me
"You are so beautiful,"
immediately after you've seen every single one of my flaws.

I've been told that the stars will be falling tonight
but nobody taught me how to catch one.