my hair is getting longer
and my body keeps getting smaller
I make boring appointments
receive compliments I want to return,
but I don’t want to seem contrived.
what I really want?
is this parking lot to be empty,
so I can dance to this song.
I’ll settle for memory mining,
though my co-author prefers me
to stay silent. he'll say:
shh, get back in your drawer,
sweet darling
(archived ghosts
don’t speak in real time)
this is too much.
it isn’t healthy.
I get too in my head.
I only want to explore this
in a disembodied way.
my needs are rhythmic,
sometimes random
but one thing you can count on?
I’ll archive you again.
and in that drawer
I am singular and bright
and I like being undone.
shh, sweet darling,
could you let your light fade?
I'll keep looking anyway.
(Daily Writing 041)
Thoughts?