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Sunday, August 31
i'll parade my panties i spose. hee.
i want some advice on this poem. it seems to disjointed, and i don't really like what i'm saying (but that might be beside the point)
this is the poem i should have written two years ago.
it becomes night and you do call.
we play with vacuum cleaners
until the stores close and we
walk down the parking lot
with the heat like a dandelion web
around us, a warm trap
and we might hold hands,
i forget.
i want to touch you.
i want to roll you down a hill and
be that hill to let you roll
down me to make things
bumpy and to make you wait
to prophecize in the quiet still
that lost you.
i am not your first and i know
not the last and we walk
and i am feeling everything
at once, your hands
become your whole story
around me, falling into pale rivers
where i want to be your only
step, only place where you
stand, the only earth that waits
for you before any sun rises.
Giorgie 12:46:00 PM
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