Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Good Night

You wash your hands with lemons
and dry them with toast. You wake up
in the middle of the night and walk backwards
down the hall. The moon rattles in the sky
unhinged by wind and debris. Cars hum
in tune with the blood flowing in your neck.
The radio plays news as though from somewhere
in the past: the playroom from your childhood.
You can point to a spot on your body
and communicate with others through that spot.
The blue veins in your arms form letters. I am lost
in your code. You are evolving with reptilian certitude. A finger
in your ass. You speak from a deep place. You know
just what to say and you are saying it to everyone
who will listen in accordance with your listening rules.
The rewards you will reap are unimaginable.

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