OUTFIT FOR BRANDISHING IN PLAIN SIGHT

what i did was bad, there’s no undoing it. teeth like armies in march. i want odd analogies; don’t jump in the pool. we’re standing under a waterfall & we’re talking to ourselves. i match your tone with my tone. if we stand out here we may get burnt. is it snowing? ash on my nose. the mirror cracks. the mirrors crack. i’m dancing when i’m unwell. our scalps are full of holes. a laser on my thumb. we’re over here! no answer. your hand on my finger. i’m looking. you’re Looking the other way

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HAZE

liquor spread low and thin. i am on my sixth day of sobriety. God shoots out from my esophagus; i lint roll my tongue. a butterfly lands in my soda water on the patio. everyone but the bartender laughs. i drink my soda in a masculine way. on the way out, a white man crosses the street when he sees me; my jacket the hue of the sun or perhaps the color of that exact moment in early-afternoon, in the back of your favorite auntie or uncle’s house, with the old hits on the radio, hot dogs on the grill (one carrot for George, the vegan. & as he takes a bite, the entire street peeks out their windows–anticipation thick, eyes locking eyes, awaiting the performance). Return of the Mack on the radio. my cousin dancing: straw hat, JNCO jeans, gapped teeth. the whole world loves us! we know & we love it back.