ipod

My Ipod has learned my feet’s movement.
I am in love with the ice cream man who sleeps at the wheel.
My neighbors are agnostic priests; I pray daily to my shoes.
Wikipedia.com is drawing conclusions to my life’s thesis.
The postman is Bukowski drinking and betting against me.

My dresser hates the way I look in her clothes; I’m perpetually without clothes.
She forbids me.
My heart has grown heavy so I put my breasts on a diet. Now they are holes
Dug in deeper than graves where I bury fingers, toes and nipples.

I crossed the river on foot
Only to be caught under the unfinished bridge
With the taste of ice cream on my skin.

I went to an eighth grade winter wonder ball
Dressed in my most brilliant sundress.
No one asked me for a dance.

I dreamed I went to Regie Cabico’s pool party
Dressed as a school girl’s mary janes.

Lifting my skirt, I offered,
Put the condoms in the freezer. Let’s try to have babies in-vitro.

My ipod has learned my feet’s movement.
My lover is the ice cream man; he is diabetic and licks himself to sleep.
My neighbors are agnostic priests; I’m their new messiah.

My feet grow roots like leaves sucking air from permafrost.