1256

three hundred red envelopes
wrapped up
tied in gold ribbons
thrown over the shoulder
as the sidewalk changed perspective

yes they see what we’re planning
what we’re getting at
our hastily scrawled notes
our lipstick stained handkerchiefs
but we don’t need them
do we babe
we got a palace in the Bahamas
a shoe factory in Scotland

in the plane
we tell each other the rest
of the questionnaire
what our favorite water tastes like
what we take apart a chair with
how we faint at classic movies
what touches first
the lips or tongue
can we write love notes
while fucking

then in our shoe palace in Bolivia
I hear you telling the wall
all our dirty secrets
but I can’t find a face within
so I tuck myself in
miserable and with the flu
and I flashback to when we
kissed each other’s palms
and how I didn’t think I’d be
happier than then

while admiring David Bowie’s guitar
you tell me you’ve got glass in
your ribs and you don’t know how
to get it out and then we grab the
tweezers and bury them
in the nearest cemetery

each night
we say I don’t think we’ve met
I do love your eyes
I’ll you my name if you
tell me yours

maybe one day I’ll think
we’re never coming back
but then I find the keys
hiding behind a box of cornflakes
and I ask you if you’ve found
yours
then you say