you’re in d.c. now and you never think about me I mean why would you

want to make small cuts

on the soft parts of the back of your knees

it’s warmer

than it was three hours ago

but the night!

is still wet

it rubs

against my cheek

my head in your neck

bike leaning against the car


no one can see

they’re explaining French politics

on the radio and I’m

thinking about fig spread that isn’t yours

spitting up pain pills

into a trash can on 1st and Oltorf

accordions for legs

my love

I know now

why things that are sweet are heavy

year long one night stand

I needed

strawberries in the winter

prisms of sun on the mattress

after you left

me in your space hungover

craving greens

blinds dirty and broken

you hung

a tapestry instead

hard wind riding down Division

hard wind turning left

we used to ball our fists

inside our gloves, remember?

but none survived

none survived

brand name packing tape

just trying to

return a fucking package but

I bet

the storm still wakes you and

your feet

on the carpet echo

always, always dirt

and broken pottery

to cut your heels on


the statue did have a curse

when you brought it home

from the thrift store


capital letters

where taste buds once were

purple slime

on the pavement

if you’ve ever wanted to know

what a broken lava lamp looks like

because of me!

failing again

to know what I need

to know what you need

tracking numbers

taste like rotten echeveria

your books

will be there by Friday