Friday, Highway

hot air balloons and the hard-hatted hopers
gather, bunches of flowers in the midday sun
the warmth on your skin is masked by the love
in your heart
the dust in the air
  i      p    l
r    p            e    s

holy white chapels are mine and the sky cracks, broken.


Yesterday a melon crashed onto the highway
its gutted insides
spilled, and my head resounded with maroon in the
transient air. Blue stars whistled against my eyes, and I wanted you to be there
and the sky is broken.

Amniotic, I curl foetally
the hot white sun consumes me totally, I forget why I came here
forget what I meant to do
and the sky is a ball full of string wicking quickly,
broken.

Intercostal muscles are taped for the laughter
has ripped them apart, breaths come slowly, the only part I remember
was all that you came here to do. in that moment
we knew nothing of each other, we were cigarettes
smoked angularly
smoke bouffanted billowingly
in our eyes and as our anger
was.

Broken. I watch for the men running quickly with blood dripping sideways
on scratchy white coats, I watch for your face in the crowd that comes quickly
I wanted to be when you told me I don’t, I watch and I wait and the morphine feels fruitless for all that I asked for was all that you won’t
do and all I ever asked
of you
and all I ever asked
to do
and I know you won’t come.

I know you can’t come.

I know that the barriers between worlds won’t succumb to your screaming and shouting
your little voice shouting

I’ve loved you as long as the inside of my arm. I’ve loved you as long as those screaming alarms.
The sky is like fire, hot, burning the thumbs I lift fruitlessly up, up
hot air balloons
In that moment, we knew nothing
of each other.