tell me a joke
sandwiched
between your sighs
play with your hair
just as my glasses fall on your thighs
when you smile, do you know that I don’t know
if this is the kind of film where the leads die
if this is how we elevate, that’s gonna be a no

we know we’re the same, and we know what’s to be said about that
by science and society and sects and synonyms of the like
this is the dance that’s been going on since dawn
and will continue on unto infinity

there’s no horseback riders now, no face to save, no nobility
just a circuit of switches we can’t understand how to turn on
like the turn signal on your green velvet bike

infinite is not a place.
infinite is a subtle miscommunication.
and we aren’t grand masters or even architects – but as bricks, we hold all final breath
move only as the hyperbole could, where every word creates life or death

but words fail me just enough that I have to repeat
and sit the whole course again, slumped in the same seat
Lord, turn our toplessness into operas
our helplessness into a kiss
our side glances into grass
our white bones to orchids

because we are parks, not graveyards
and certainly not what we think.