(no subject)

[cherryxpie]

Bed bug summer. July 3rd we went to Coney Island and a sharp toothed scraggly haired serpentine man was drunkenly angry and belligerent. July 4th, which is not Antoinette's real birthday, but the day that her surprise birthday party was on, was the day that i picked you up. The air was like a hot dog grill outside. Crisp, crackly, crunchy, like a Sabrett. Summer air is made of hotdogs, patriotic pinwheels, whirligigs, ice cream, fire island, dunes, salt, seaweed, sneakers walking on cement sidewalks, snaps, fireworks, sweat, mirage, heatwave haze. I smoked resin on the highway coming to get you, to see you and show you Fat Baby named after yours truly and how i made it there okay and i was so happy to see you and that was the first time i ever drove over a bridge by myself. It was the Williamsburg bridge. Cavespace with Adjective Adjunct's black curly humid hair that was beautiful and people would die for that hair too, both of yours, now its winter. skipped the fall. skipped everything. eviscerated into a black hole. Short term memory shot. Guess it sort of forces me to live in the now. No real other choice. Auspicious. Everythings gonna be okay. Everythings gonna be okay. I am okay. And so are you.

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As I walk up the stairs the stiff collars on your shirt look like origami paper cranes
i cant stop seeing the natural spring in your mothers photograph on the wall as a lit joint
ever since that is what i started seeing it as.
Your voice erupts like the spring of the joint you wish you could smoke.
and i just wish for wings even made of paper so that i could fly away solitary untouched.
pzzzz