Monday, February 13, 2012

me = you

two identical plates smeared in chicken curry dregs
lay pressed against one another
crammed in the sink

hand a hand your left hand always
through the back of your shorn
boy's hair

you close the blinds for me because i am very shy. you have been seen naked hundreds of times by the neighbors across the poured path. you think they must not care because they have never taped a note to the door. you somehow simplify things,

all things primary colors for you,

every body says when they are upset, and though their languages are disparate, their tones are marked, and so you think you understand.

you have been sick for weeks, you call me the Carrier. but you gave it to me with your tongue, like a pill. you climbed with a knee on either side of my thighs and your skirt above your ass and i sang along to bad boy la la la la la la. i felt small and you felt big. a blur which annexed all of my vision. you're not afraid of things like armpits or tongues or where you put your mouth or where you let your heart go. you must be certain that you have one, ('have a heart please wont you have a heart?' you like to sing, along.) you're cocksure, so cocksure,

i would never, never use the word cocksure.

maybe i would.

you clean your room for me so that i will think that you are clean. your possessions in order and a dirty dust floor. your cat sleeps on the bathroom sink. you don't seem to care that what you do does not make sense, draws an elaborate plan for future pains.

the edge of an enormous fear laps like small waves along your skin, and i see it.

i draw on your bruise, crouched over your thigh and your white underwear.

you told me i laughed in my sleep, that i groan in my sleep, lungs rattle in my sleep, i say 'woah!' in my sleep, you watch me sleep,

wipe sleep from my eyes,

hold captive my

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