Each sentence exploded in my head so I
looked away
to the pinkening azalea and the gaping orchid.
Then I
poured it over all of my friends
so they would feel better.
He cried and it made me want to kiss him.
Don’t walk away with the romance
(down the hallway). Stay right here
to keep it going. The attic fan is on.
I buffed the floors (his mother did).
The cup of coffee wasn’t meant to be.
Down today, wept last night (no kisses).
860 Bush Street, Apartment 603.
The point is I want happy
really fucking in my mind even
afterwards keeping it ignorant
as time goes over to a new place.
The point is
Where are the people I live?
And my hair.
