everything deserves a name
and so shall you have one too.
it will simply be lovely.
lovely
just like you
it will have the most beautiful beginning
and be altogether witty
and when people read it aloud it will roll off their tongues
and roll right back in
so that it can come out again
and again.
that is how the good ones go. people just read them over and over. ask anyone you know.
and with a name like this, you could never go wrong.
and when you are tired of you
your name will still be there printed in public memory
like a logo on a little girl's shopping bag as she carries it with her when she goes out to buy potatoes.
and you will think to yourself.
"hmm...my name is definitely better than 'potato'."
but you know inside
that even boiled and served without salt or pepper,
potato tastes better than you.
but you have a name, a dear little name, a happy home, so you cling to it with all your might.
and you remember how not so long ago, a 25 year old girl gave you a name as she wrote you down on her moleskine notebook that was a little too small and cluttered for her liking, but that rested comfortably on a Bukowski book she'd been reading and was taking more than just physical support from, a book which rested on her panties that had been drawn down to her thighs as she sat on the toilet pooping leisurely at about four in the afternoon while feeling her teeth with the tip of her tongue and thinking how they'd need to be brushed soon.
so much of tenderness
this intimacy on the internet
with potential strangers
should i be happy i made my grandmother laugh in spite of her anger and that i did it face to face? all she wants is a little bit of attention. all we deny is a little bit of attention. when she told me she wanted to tear her mouth to shreds and hurl it away, was she just asking to be heard? my grandmother is a rumbling belly, full of sadness. she gurgles, and grumbles. acid burns inside of her, sounds tumble inside of her, full of sadness. she wants simple, little things to be happy. we will not make concessions.
always ready to leverage
to take for granted
to carry you half full
no, to be brimful of you
to salivate over you
to think you are the answer to all the universe's unanswerable questions
you are fulfillment, you are contentment
you are celebration, an affirmation of the good things in me
you make me beautiful
you, tender you.
ultimate you.
you you
you.
to even think you are.
holding, touching, caressing
my mind is a double decker circus emporium street fashion super market carnival thingy.
can't keep track.
my mind is active with you.
you are paint, furniture, wood, transparent, you are warmth, a light fixture on the ceiling, a naked ant marching on its solitary journey, paintbrushes, half burnt candles fading color, fading perfume, dust, permanent, shadows without stories, to-do lists on mirror made with temporary markers, you are that warped window and that empty mug with memory of last night's impetuous storm and yesterday's rancid coffee, you are my clothes, unwashed, bed, unmade, book, unread "sifting through the madness for the word, the line, the way", you are an old path that winds and unwinds in the alternate universe i've kept folded and tucked away in the corner, you are also last night's dream where the sky was the shore and the rain was a wave and i looked at you and i drowned. then the moon turned into a boat, and i sailed into the morning, and when i woke up, i was still a little wet.
