woolly

we sing songs through this echoing building, whistle responses to those sneaky ghosts who surround us. we chase each other down cold city sidewalks in the rain yelling angry desperations, collapse finally into nothing but arms and cheekbones and you so close i'll jam my fingers on yr ribcage, joints swollen for days. (tattoos smearing the sheets.)

recall these things: yr bloody nose. the growl of my belly. the shiver of morning.

we'll play board games in dim places with beers taller than our tales. no, really, taller than you'd believe. fifteen cents back! automated! i can't believe they sell those kits. i can't believe what they allow. (you are a whole lot of promises and curiousity and i am a whole mess of indecision.)

we asked him what to do and he told us it gets harder every year. in his eastern carolina brogue, with his austrian wife.

nothing seems ever better than that first night of headbands, winebottles, short shorts and scrawled ink. flashing lights on my waist. cardboard rackets, and kitchen dance parties, and a giddy disregard for their insinuations.

(it's cold for sure but we've got wool enough to wear.)



halloween critical mass: