Murky tavern air and heat kisses
strip the trees of any sap that’s clinging.
And junkyard dog licks sloth today.
Snow is on vacation, has nestled in your head,
And you can’t recall how rude it was
when it swallowed your November.
To be cool, we hang out of windows
like some bad joke we keep forgetting.
We’re spoiling faster in this heat;
sheets are torture against our skin.
The thought of braille repulsive.
And nothing can coax us into sex,
not even that starry evening sky
Smeared with what looks like a million tired sperm.
All our dreams are wet ones.
We’re clinging to a buoy bobbing above the water line
Just to keep our lung-beats going.
Every breath becomes a new surprise,
newer than the last one.