Lip Gloss
There's a glass dripping on me,
perspiration or slopp.
I feel both reading me - a review.
Being such a clunky stride,
I'm reading a saying
and saying No back
wondering if it does more
for the space it's from.
It's all so silly
a
that walk becoming a thought,
divorced "we"
and the potential energy
I see on screen but never meet.
Feeling like a model
where I once was a model
in real time, no humble here
just the parade.
Vacant, after-bodies
divorced from haunts
floating through new clutter,
crowded racks:
what we were told was chocie
and know are the piles of something
like mold-growing new land.
Intention still anchored in the upset
I'm that street not a breeze
carrying cat calls heavy asking
"Does your mother know you look like this?"
and yelling back
"Yes, of course. She bought it for me."