there are a pair of purple corduroy pants that I wear when I've had a thought of you.
Will we keep to ourselves? Will you be deranged & will I laugh? I don't think I could be so serious all the time. Would you come up from behind & shake my shoulders that I would scream so loud that all-of-both-of-our bones, would rattle...? I sometimes love it here. Sometimes it feels unbearably remote. I want poems written for me & about me & I want a big scoop of ice-cream with soggy nonpareils. I forget your voice but I don't miss you, I feel a quiet about it. I don't know you & won't want to fast, but you'll know me in a second because I am quick-knowable. And I think you will smell like something old that has been half-cleaned with half-new grease. And you'll look dirty but be clean with a crunchy rag in your pocket.
I wouldn't let you touch me, not to lead me through a doorway, until the day it's right & we're both straight & we've exhausted ourselves all day with some labor that wasn't that hard but we both knew it was the day & the anticipation wore us thin. No bells would ring & you'd be louder than me about it all. I'd come so close to your face with the tip of my nose that we'd see the electricity in the dark around. And the electricity would shock us into tucked beds in separate rooms & we'd live for 46 days on nose-electricity alone. On the 47th day, at the end of the magic hour, our palms would be like magnets & wouldn't separate for the next week. Then it would be & happen, on a very ordinary day in an ordinary way, because we're not so extraordinary. After a while you would whisper in my ear, something like,"hello my friend" & that would make me laugh so painfully loud & hard that I couldn't keep from crying & whooping. It would be very funny to us both, we would like it all & it would really get along quite well with us.
Will we keep to ourselves? Will you be deranged & will I laugh? I don't think I could be so serious all the time. Would you come up from behind & shake my shoulders that I would scream so loud that all-of-both-of-our bones, would rattle...? I sometimes love it here. Sometimes it feels unbearably remote. I want poems written for me & about me & I want a big scoop of ice-cream with soggy nonpareils. I forget your voice but I don't miss you, I feel a quiet about it. I don't know you & won't want to fast, but you'll know me in a second because I am quick-knowable. And I think you will smell like something old that has been half-cleaned with half-new grease. And you'll look dirty but be clean with a crunchy rag in your pocket.
I wouldn't let you touch me, not to lead me through a doorway, until the day it's right & we're both straight & we've exhausted ourselves all day with some labor that wasn't that hard but we both knew it was the day & the anticipation wore us thin. No bells would ring & you'd be louder than me about it all. I'd come so close to your face with the tip of my nose that we'd see the electricity in the dark around. And the electricity would shock us into tucked beds in separate rooms & we'd live for 46 days on nose-electricity alone. On the 47th day, at the end of the magic hour, our palms would be like magnets & wouldn't separate for the next week. Then it would be & happen, on a very ordinary day in an ordinary way, because we're not so extraordinary. After a while you would whisper in my ear, something like,"hello my friend" & that would make me laugh so painfully loud & hard that I couldn't keep from crying & whooping. It would be very funny to us both, we would like it all & it would really get along quite well with us.
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