You'd Think

The trouble with towels
is that they're aren't enough of them
to crush the constant stain of tears.
Well, you’re wrong.
There's a vestige of a membrane
where the eyes should have been
and that makes it hard to shop
even under the best of conditions.
It prevents me from sticking my fingers
in other people's shoes and finding
things that I could use, for real.
My head is a trouble ticket;
full of couples gasping at my kinks
while aching all night for what wobbles,
coils, and disappears.
Oh sleepless night of dark jelly!
Oh milky fingers strange and sincere!
You open and close on nothing.