I feel myself control water
around him
drowning
he came in through the front
door pouring ballpoint pens upon
the hostess stand
he said he was a hoarder
a few months later
I realized that
he had a
fever and he said yes touch my head
is it hot
now i sit with a heaviness
at the awareness of naivety
connected
glassy blue eyes
and the dark moments
of intuition

sitting in the corner chair
staring at a room of white
and blue paintings that I’ve made
there are plenty of green plants
to contrast
I miss New York and the cold
I would have been feeling
I miss the stovetop that I had to light
with a lighter
there was a smell of
several seasons
of decay and bloom
the cycle
that just isn’t present
in this place
in this chair in the corner
of my room

Driving on my favorite road
December in Florida
In the sky there is a cloud
It’s the shape of a birthmark
the kind that a lover would
remember
I then looked at my forearms
glowing
my body
light