We’d really rather be in a field of phosphorescent jellyfish, dancing.
Well, I’d dance, and you’d stand with the rest of the striped tiger fish, watch and chaperone.
If you held my hand in a field I think you could hold your whiskey.
For an archetype you’re quite un-spontaneous
For a first love you’re quite unforgiving
For a weakened storm, you don’t much enjoy the squalor of a men’s only fist fight
Square pegs, or whatever.
There are futon fights where we make each other jealous
or I guess we try and jealous the other person,
In a pallid way
(If a way can be ‘pallid’ this is the way we would exist, I suppose)
There are times where we are trembling through imagined stars and hypotheticals
Talking and never caring.
For a mistake, I’m pretty present
For an enemy you’re pretty…existent.
For a cobwebbed couple we’re pretty intertwined.
For a twinkled clockman, you’re…
Fuck.
I feebled us.
Compromising our anonymity and indifference and bright lightbulb thoughts that an elementary school teacher wouldn’t scratch for.
I storaged an amount of myself on the west coast
I forgot about the part buried with the gravel glitter and missing socks
I squirmed once with pleasure and imagination and infinity but I’m not sure it was worth the scrapes.
I storaged an amount of ourselves once in a paper towel that folded into fourths.
I storaged an amount of you once in pillowcase (or maybe it was a coin purse), I think. Right?
Am I here-
Let me address the corner of the room, for never changing, like a saltine cracker with peanut butter.