paddling

I wanted to put my mouth on you and suck out that leftover toxin... you know, the one that left me hostage a few moments ago in your kitchen holding that spatula between my legs and those tiny specks of cookie dough between my breast     -but I understand. There are limits to love. So here's a flower that needs no water, and yes it can grow anywhere.

I wanted to undress you down to the scabbards of my mannerisms and place the tiny bits of jewelry on your nightstand so I could touch you in bare knuckles. I wanted to unhook my ribs and spread my breath over yours and listen to that pulsating heart bump bump bump, bump, bump. I wanted to spill myself all over you and leave without staining     -but I understand. There are limits to love. So here's a fish that needs no water, and yes it can swim anywhere.

I wanted to be pressed deep into your bed and lie there without moving like a lifeless animal left dead in the middle of the road. I wanted the many many passengers to gasp after me as the toll continued to rise and I just continued to lie there. I just continued to lie there with my blood smeared on someone's doorpost as if death spared me for you     -but I understand. There are limits to love. So here's a failed seed that needs no dirt, and yes it can sprout anywhere.

I wanted to clone myself into several identical women and have you whisper many different pet names as I kneeled down to polish your shoes. I wanted to shine in that black sequined dress as I slowly brushed against your coat to feel as complete as I'd ever feel. I wanted you to sweat with memory as you sat in that lonely room and listened to the moaning walls to wonder if that was me. I wanted you to remember that time I let you drink rain from the pulse of my throat as I weeped in silence like a goddamned woman     -but I understand. There are limits to love. So here's a quarter that needs no phone call, and yes those are my heels dangling from the wire.

I tell you I've got this shit down to a science.

proverbial dream girl

Put your arms around me from behind as I stand here despondent at the window, right after I incessantly remind you I will never speak to you again.
I will never speak to you again. I will never speak to you again. I will never speak. 

Put your arms around me and touch me with your compulsive fingertips and wake me, but this time on the steps of your mind or the mournful solitude of your heart or that green grass of a bottomless ditch. You know, the one where I found you rolling in as I meddled on your drunkenness. And this time ask me, ask the wind, ask the parliament of owls, ask the broken clock, ask everything that is flying, everything that is moaning, everything that isn't moving. Ask them who you are as I sip on this drink made of butterfly wings and electric wire. Ask them who you are as I dance dance dance in this naked room filled with misfits and broken survivors and quarterless jukeboxes.

Put your arms around me and tell me, long-legged martini man. Tell me rowdily as you thrust your olive in my mouth. Tell me that time you were born late and pulled over blind-folded with an apple-cinnamon scented candle still lit in your mouth. Tell me you were sorry and your jeans were too tight and you witnessed that tree fall down in the forest of my life. You know, the one we used to sit under in summertime. The one we used to sit.

Put your arms around me and sing me your drinking song. Sing me your scrambled eggs and whiskey as I kneel low in your vocabulary in this lamplit kitchen of mine. Spread that balm on your chaotic lips and touch me one last time with that unused kiss.

Put your arms around me and do not write, for that drink we had was cordial and that touch we touched was sober. Put your arms around me and do not write, for I taste of liquor never brewed and of stained red dresses. Put your arms around me and do not write to me, I will never speak to you again.