crash bam boom

the heavy noisy quiet after a crashing storm has grumbled away, when the rain is still plummeting onto heads of passersby and the streaks of lightning are growing less frequent, and i suppose that gash in the sky must be mending. the smell of paint fumes and wallpaper remover, the dismantled sink on the porch. i used to get sore from carrying books to the library but now even sick and dizzy my muscles feel good in these following days. so many boxes. so many alleys. so many stairs. that dumpster just filled up our cabinets. how much can one neighborhood throw away? my striped shirt is sticking to my back and this quilt is bigger than my head. how 'bout i age one year real quick and you start letting me into small crowded places with loud music so i can batter my liver and my eardrums simultaneously. do we have a deal? then we just tumble tumble tumble into metaphors of flight and collapse, burrowing and lampshades. i saw yr bike on the bridge so you must have been foraging nearby, but where's yr young oh so young earnest face when i look for you? intellectual discussions where we nod our heads and try to use the biggest words we can think of but really we're all daydreaming about snacks or sex or ceramics. write a song about soggy sneakers and doodle pictures of bikes in the margins. the time is now!