signing a lease we blew up
its national flag flirts online with our own
greenness
Saturday night Brian the elegant nurse
Jake the sixteen year old Indian
Easter
nothing like you
our traditional walk in a pink shirt
so as not to be funereal
we breathe
he’s unimpressed so I sign the line
it gets things rearranged
but I want to think about bloom bottoms
everything frozen like the internet
in greed
disappears in a puff of smoke
each argument over religion
gets me closer to the stars
in bed
everything on the floor you fell down
making an announcement
you’re leaving for good you don’t feel safe
you want to hang it on the wall
so you can see some you there
or me
it’s too confusing
puff
over nothing
