star

i hate watching

you. i hate the blood

that pumps underneath your right hand

and runs through you red and thick and salty--

i hate your stubborn lips, mouthing

every 

word.

i wish i didn't wonder

i bought pumpkin pie lip balm that tasted like

fall in california

even though i'm in new hampshire

and the leaves are curling. 

the lights in sephora were sickly bright

like the lights

how did words once flow

like water

from my mind?

we sat and imagined fireflies

flitting between the tops of the RVs

as the sun disappeared into muggy,

illicit sludge. we realized we both liked

 the sticky-sweet taste of summer

you're not

leaving yet. no,

i'll glue your limbs to the pavement,

lower your waving hand,

tell you

something to make your eyes crinkle

again.

again,

again,

again.

I have been told

To put curl cream in my hair

Upside down, eyes 

Straining against the ceiling light,

Curls straining toward the tile floor,

Bunching.

I will smell