You take a shower.

I roll over

Griffith Park

And yellow hills kiss the sky good morning.

You freckle in the sun

And smolder.

Like peaches in my ice cream

And you melt.

I melt with you.

I watch you powder your nose.

Tiny Tiny White Dust.

Like snow, like blow

Like wind and sugar

Plum Nutcracker.

I’m crushed between your teeth

And a soft smile.

You said

“Nobody gets out alive.”

I like your bed 

And the smell of steak burning in your kitchen.

The quiet of your house.

We are quiet, you and me.

Maybe it’s lame to enjoy 

Stillness

But when the world stops moving

My thoughts don’t have to be so loud 

To scream over the sound of traffic 

And kazoo music, the psychotic shrieks, 

And hot breath, biting snakes 

And television host speak

You won’t call me for days,

And I’ll spend them 

Five bucks for coffee

And my yellow journal.

I look at the people drinking with a book

Talking about movies and work. 

I imagine telling them all about you and me.

Because I can tell them pieces of you and me

And they won’t ask me for more.

They still wash cars 

At the car wash

Even after we’re finished you know?

You call me your little rock n roller

And I miss you from the passenger seat of your car

So I reach over to feel your thin brown hair.

You once loved a woman,

A child you’re told

But don’t think twice it’s alright.