Alright,
i've reached my comfort level...
oh my window.
this is fucked.
his face is cropped so wonderfully
i wonder if there is any chance
that he could see me.
this is how he is, Nature.
not like that night he played with my hair.
my mind grows hot.
i listen to a poet strumming
but i can hear his voice
through the walls.
at the first moments of my evening high
i catch this happening.
i consider it a petty gift.
too bad this night is still with daylight
and that tomorrow will start
soon awful for me.
i'd march myself down there
and speak.
i just had a cold shower
in my cold skin: it was highly
uncomfortable.
i watch him do something embarrassing
i laugh deeply to myself and say aloud: oh!
don't put that in the poem
i recline. i reflect on my day,
and i am satisfied.
i had many genuine
human conversations with
the community itself
of good friends, gorgeous strangers,
and the idea of What A Person Could Be.
the boy has gone inside.
my hair is still drying from its wet.
i wit again over obvious intention.
i don't want the reality of sleep so soon.
today has been becoming and exciting
with this most pleasant
goodnight sight.
behind the windsheild i sit in the passengers seat and navigate.
click here to speak to me.