In Wichita, it’s navy blue,
Slow, the city a balloon that
Never pops. Smoke swirls,
Smoke clears, humans capture
The light on the castle at dusk,
At dawn, at an otherworldly moment.
Neither of us can stay healthy.
I have a strange smell in my nose
And you pop your leg out of your
Hip over and over, like a toy
A child tries to break. G.I. Joe.
Rubber bands for stomachs.
I thought I’d try something else,
Trade in the terrifying deep blue
Skies for turquoise, a parched
Air that turns skin to leather,
Lizard-like. The homeless here
Wear layers and layers of parkas.
What is temperature but an
Internal designation? It’s cold
At night, in the absence of the
Hot white poker sun.
I walk outside at 3 am, see
Every star running from itself.
I feel pretty at Smith’s, because I
Finally get hit on. Why are all the
Women here so beautiful? A man
Asks me. I don’t know. I noticed
The same thing. I wish I had a girl’s
Hand to hold, soft as a wish, or a
Man’s, large with callouses.
When you have all the time in the world,
You ride along the edge of the river,
Which is muddy and not very pretty.
It takes everything in its path. I’ve
Never once touched it. The Rio Grande.
I had a dream I woke up. And you wereSitting in the sun beneath the window.