i don't know what to do on these days when i can't shut my mouth, trying frantically to clamp my lips or teeth down tight but my wicked tongue keeps getting in the way. this is no excuse. i thought maybe i'd gotten better, but i think it's closer to more extreme, higher highs and lower lows and these swinging arcs of our frustrated paths crossing. intersections are the more dangerous, after all.
that xylophone, i can feel it in my toenails. impatient tongue and cheeks. malicious and comforting belly. the gentle swoop from yr hip to yr waist. painting parties where we'll fling pigments past paper cranes. the intricate reverse origami of how i unfold around you / the world unfolds around us like a map of all the gnawing nudging misgivings and plans of this whole seething confusion.
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