When things are sweet, perhaps sugar is good for you after all. 

So slow and soft was your swing that it hit the ball just right, 

we went soaring into the night, 

you stayed behind to dance along with the floating feet of Jazz music. 

STAY AWAKE, for the exciting part

in the shadow of the moon's little sisters 

we'll dance and dance and dance

until we drop, sweetly, to the ground 

and fold into each other, one half found the other, 

be happy. 

 

I'll have sweet pink, 

wait for you to drink your own sour-tasting love

and love anyway- watching, waiting, wondering

pondering. Am I lost or not? 

Just misplaced

mispoken mistook. 

Maybe I should pour myself down the drain and mix with the remenance of you 

and the world. 

I have all the time in the world 

I cut through it like a butter knife, ripe avocado

and I'm floating, loving, floating again

A needle over a stuck record. 

 

I held the image of you in my sports bra

next to my heart, or maybe just my tits

because I can't quite tell what I'm longing for yet

and I'm hoping you'll drop it all and tell me how to bite your nose in the way you like it. 

BECAUSE I'M LONELY. 

In such a bright horizon

so bright and blinding and bright

and I'm finding my way back to earth 

to run along the train tracks of our love 

and jump into the stream of electricity. 

Electrical at the bottom, at the top, all the way through 

I could fly and land and disappear to blissfully forget you. 

Throw your image to the dark ground and put something else in my sports bra. 

I would love it if you cried and soaked me in your tears 

so that I could finally shake the fear that I am disabled 

and nobody bothered to tell me.