Breadcrumb #331


Everyone wants to believe
You’re sick for them

That there’s a pill
Lodged in your trachea

They imagine you dead anyway

                        . . .

Your friends sound far away

On the phone

                        . . .

You dream of soggy luggage

Spit in your girlfriend

‘s soup
Sour brain/damaged father (hers)

Deranged and blabbering on the way
To the bathroom

To the ocean

                        . . .

We call each other sweet words

Until we can’t see


I’m fome
Once, I smashed my head

On a picnic table to see I said to them
Can you see I asked, bloody and awake

Finally and for once
I licked a gravedigger in a dorm room

He told me his mother died
He told me to slow down

This is not for the others either
Who take everything a little bit

And always ask for more
The spoons sticking straight out from their penises

And pubic hair crowding their teeth

                        . . .

Brilliant baby, if I hold you

So silently, can we pretend
That no one can see us

From up here
From so down low

• • •