I blew back east
in a tempestuous race
to meet myself
and abandoned this idea
I’m dreading return.
but at this point,
I don’t know which state is home
so I face forward and try to
as my mother says:
“Live in the now.”
But now is a terrible time to wake up
so I panic from some memory,
some Plan B,
some pelvic ceiling
that’s trapped me in it’s base
and just turned all sorts of
all sorts of mad,
all sorts of dazed
like a basement orphan suddenly escaped and is trying
her steering wheel riding the high seas of
outer space with no compass,
no plan for later.
That must be me.
I dated Mars; a cool, cold, rusty kettle calling me
We were both rising to a steady boil,
water in our corroded veins
pouring out cups of
dusky moans when the moon touched down
on our windowsill and we remembered we once knew how to say
“love” before we said:
oh, since you know which way is North and all
and blowing off steam in a car built for
I know more than you could ever guess
and I’m making demands
and empty threats about heading south for every consecutive bout
of bad, bluey blues
once we reach the eastern bend,
I’m off to a warmer coast
to raise my thoughts
and become the fourth kind
and I’m ghost.
And I’m swearing
No fucking problem
I want to say I am sorry and wrap my hands around your wheel
and drive us off a cliff before we ever get there
but I told someone I would meet them in Brooklyn and
I am too
fuck you again
to die without saying
I will see them again.
Where’s God once you get off that cotton candy cloud?
but you have to dig deep inside of yourself
to understand the difference between wishes and
Our heads are yelling murderer, you, not me!
our car is a rolling coffin,
a detrained uterus,
bleak box of metal death
and our lungs are full of
that tastes like a semi-relapse.
It’s just kombucha and blasphemy, babe, calm down
I’m sinking in a kettle of rubber,
that plunges us further into one another
and our screams are so smothered in wheels
in burnt charcoal rubble
but we remembered to pray today
so we’re covered.
Our mouths make no sound but our hearts split in two
like my womb would be too
had I went through with the truth and the sky is so smoky, so bare,
so blue and so
that I can only hear one heartbeat thumping in my chest
but I feel a wave of red on the ground.
And I am empty of my past as my mother assured me
would happen when I finally tell someone
what I wanted without
I am emptied of now.