I pick the mouthpiece
speak secrets into it
you think I will gossip
but I read out a poem
stanzas as sharp as razors
when I wrote it in the bath
a storm was brewing in my heart
(my skin so bronze, not that it matters)
why do you have a lopsided view
your thoughts always sour
you find blemish in all that touches you
as you always have been doing
I will always keep that fence erect,
now that weeds are growing around that
obsolete phone.
"I am still speaking into it, assuming
my poem might inspire you to write a few songs"
in that bowl of ice cream
I try to find some coolness
I am frantic in this heat
random things springs in the mind
sultry weather, no one's fault
nature's way of testing us
to make us absorbed deeply into it
that man in that tiny birdbath
is that too much?
he can only skim the surface
not touch it without pain
his shirt discarded now
after that stain of salt shows in its grain
that birdbath can't contain his length
I shake my thoughts
scour that bowl with all my strength
I ache for more
"when the sky finally falls
I will hide under that now named manbath"
