cylindrical

who says things like that anyway? do we, i, you?

i OD'd on coffee and flung my bike across the room. i unspooled yards and yards of cassette tape, only to see the words flaking off of it onto the floor. she says girls are like otters. he says my pheremones are calling. i say this ache in my side may send me astray. she lies on her back on the carpet watching feathery dust particles swim through the air above her nose.

the tape's over, and not a minute too soon. someone once told me his hipbones were mine for the taking. summary enhancement. smarmy melodrama. blue-green patterns on rugs worth more than our homes. the asymmetry of yr roving thoughts and mine, and the shapes of our inquisitive noses. she lies on her back on the carpet with her face in a puddle of sunshine.

not my weak guts and raw eyes and chapped lips. my legs curl up while i sit on the ground and wait for yr eyes to meet mine. (i stare down from escalators.) i'd blush if you knew. (and all the faux cheese sauce we could ever think to eat.)