muggy

and i'm so used to running off of adrenaline & caffeine & sheer will that now my body is cautious about returning to sleep and proper nutrition, suspicious about my motivations. & my bike is chipping pink onto my helmet and onto everything i lean it against, just like my hair fades pink onto my shoulders and onto yr pillow if you let me stay over. & the morton salt girl is doing her dance up above while the cars are trying to cut me off down below, and yr all so angry, so angry like you've forgotten the color of diversion and the taste of mud between yr toes. & i think i absorb assimilate agree too easily cuz we've been spending too much time together and suddenly i want to revert & return to my own particular eardrums. you know how it is. the streetlights never turn off and every car has to peel out at every light and the fans aren't enough to keep us from sweating, but we embrace this damp air cuz it's that zillion times inevitability, that hot breath on our faces and down our backs while we wince and fidget and roll our eyes. i saw them both look up at once with the same expression and i couldn't help but smirk at our mindless murky mirroring. i wonder if you knew it was a mistake.