I DON'T BEG FOR A PLACE TO LAND BUT I FEEL LONELY WHEN YOU'RE DRUNK
When
you fall asleep I try on your eyeglasses:
the top of my skull breaks off
and
floats with the gentle heat of a lamp.
Why don’t you come over?
Everything
that’s crushed into creasing,
you can have those things.
I'm
sorry, don't you worry, that you leave
the night soundly by making yourself heavy.
I
only pity you, that's the way it is,
that's the stiffness in your arms after you climb into bed
and
lock me against your chest,
that's your even breathing.
Teeth
so tight that the tongue is mangled,
and the crown of my head pivots like a parachute.
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