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now the flower girls are so coy
roses and rose colored
preening and pruning across
the greasy tarmac
just waiting
like you and me
just waiting for someone to come
and see them

his dinner walks on three legs
scratches itself with disdain
and I’m reaching for a gun
and your eyes are gold
gilded cloves
little roaming buds
and we’re all wondering aloud
what’s to be done

you say
I’ve got a thousand lines
which would you like to cross
which would you like to play
grab the clippers and go for a run
or or or
come on home
they’re just good for tying and
wrapping the girls to the floor

the boy is crying by the tub
a bucket of letters
ready to be dumped and washed
gotta get the truth out of ‘em
he says
you’re waiting by the door with
your lip between your teeth

she calls and asks about a plane
I straighten my back and fold to
the floor drooling with a marble
spinning to the ceiling
waiting to be thrown outside
thinking of the way hands curl
and uncurl when pressed
against a moving chest

in silence
in peace
the two of us stretching like arms
like fists curling and uncurling
and me and him and her and you and me and her and you and him wrapped
wrapped
staring
staring

staring