you know, this dance is
just more lurching in the dark
let’s talk in the light
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verse
date night: door
I don’t even get to say
That I swing both ways,
Because she won’t even look at me.
But this is par for the course,
Head off at ninety,
Peeling labels off sauce,
Amassing salt,
I’ve seen it all before.
What was it she said?
Transparent? One-sided?
A pushover? Unhinged?
As critique, it’s technically weak,
As I have two sides, at least
And four hinges, at the time of press,
And some kinder souls might allow that,
A glass heart ne’er did harm
To fair wench, lest a gentleman hold me ajar,
With his limbs outstretched
And wait and wait but remain unchecked.
And also, i might add, if I may,
This coat’s fresh on today.
No exit, no fires, no names in lights,
Royal timber, hewn from evergreen block,
From chainsaw blade and sopping twine,
To brassy pushplates and a fat waiter’s behind
That is my jamb, my friends, that is my jamb.
And who goes on a date with a door?
Maybe this isn’t a date, more a fixture.
No, wait, this is a date.
I’m a fixture.
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kicking out jams on
pool halls and tar pits
lyme disease and squash
penny whistles and two-bed lofts
caramel phagocytes and silkworm thought
turmeric-colored sweater vests and ambient chalk
the magnetic hills and first-look tomtom pranks
old-school broken necks and winter’s breathy chuckle
the fifteen percent of people who think in french
when they make fuck with their partners
in south-southeastern ontario
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GTX
a curt delinquent glide
eyelids slide from side to side
hang; over builder’s yards
suburban sprawl, no sound
for a mouse is a mouse, after all
anonymous : age 6
to eat normally
and to look after ourselves
like wild animals
dew point: kafka
burst!
and swing
from silken thread
at once,
low-cost and locust
at twice,
not found or lost
a third,
dutifully read
not placed
on a wrist
but saved
surreptitiously
for the hangman’s head
colonel
teacher, enlighten
your lungs are full of chalk dust
go play in the fields
