the big queasy.

stuck out my tongue and i
tasted the sun.
detroit's always sounded like armageddon
to me, so i guess by contrast this place
is a gumdrop - here, at least,
time's moving slowly; here, at least,
the broken houses and cracked grins
can wrap me up in a banana peel embrace
while that fiddler just keeps on playing
magic spell tunes.

tell me that you love me, she says
i need to tell you something; tell me
that you love me.
and everyone's shifting in their seats and everyone
is waiting for calamity. catastrophic
plastic chairs, & frogs
raining from the sky.
absinthe green and fire engine red and
it's all made in kentucky these days.
his disappointed eyebrows.
you know how it goes.
round and round and backwards baseball caps.
do not accept packages from strangers.
venus contracting, let me
take care of yr project. you wonder
why i called, and i wonder
how many lovers' voices i have to hear in one day
before i start to get queasy (all these hearts
i've swallowed are threatening to stick in my throat)
did i ever tell you about that dream?
i hope not, cuz i don't think you'd understand.
i'd just like to be invisible, basking
in the glow of yr warm hands and long limbs,
yr fairy eyes and tangled hair,
slow smiles to make me shiver.

all of you, and all of me, and what's wrong
in the end, with multiplicity?
both coasts are so far away. i see
yr feet jumping up and down behind that airplane
but it's no call for alarm, just a reminder
of all the reasons we close our eyes
when we kiss.