He asks her in a whisper
“What makes people beautiful?”
and she can’t say.

We see it where his jaw
meets his neck and makes
a long shadow.

Invisible except for the way
her hand drags each finger
through hair, behind an ear.

But that’s not a real answer.

Mirrors look back in lies while
scientists probe our souls
to find where they reside.

People wrapped together
in a present for each other
answer with a smile.

Stars blink their tired eyes at me
for the first time in a long time.

A looping chorus ribbons through my ears making music through my hair carried by the wind.

Eyes closed, nose breathing,
my smile laughs for me
while I swallow air.

Dizzy heads come faster two-thousand feet above sea level,
with conversation catching up quickly.

There's a picture of you on the back of my eyelids
so I grin when I blink.

The wall of the supermarket entryway
tells the story of how a housewife got a part-time job
 to save up enough money to run away.

She needs an accomplice 
watching her kids
from eight a.m. to three p.m. 
every day
besides Sunday.

Little bombs go off in the background while

patriotic cupcakes
make their escape
past the stories with 
tabs torn off.

No cars turn left 

when the memories of our forefathers 
light up the sky.



We can smell independence a day after.

Riches in
Fifty-cent flying saucer vending machines
I got a ring
and a note from the future you
explaining that everything will be okay.

Only three windows open
and everyone is smiling about it.

This road has no lights.
My hair is in my mouth, past
empty parking lots
Let's be quiet for this song.

Fellow puddle jumpers of the world,
gather your
sidewalk worm armies
and meet me for hot cocoa.

Tonight is the battle
of getting it wrong.

Tonight we fail
the wrong tests.
Tonight we kiss
the wrong person.
Tonight we go to sleep on
the wrong side of the bed.

Ghandi said
"Be the change you want to see in the world,"
so we will be them all
and ring in walking pockets.

Tonight we have a big enough gut
to swallow the world
and stomach it all

Because if we fall asleep
on the wrong side,
we don't have to wake up on it.

His ear-to-ear smile infects everyone,
too big for just his face.
It cracks the strong jaw of anyone who doesn't know
to open their throats and give them a taste.

Laughing is like music
from his broken open mouth
and it drowns out sounds that threaten to calm it,
contagious enough to bring tears to eye sockets.

Oh, but, oh you see it in her now, too
and soon the whole room
full of it, bursting

Fully Cooked Steaks.

Except she’s the one who brought it here
tenfold like a wildfire virus that lights him up and lights her up
and they’re two standing lamps, the old kind, with clocks in ‘em to wind and keep the time
forever.

And in the ravaged swirl they are glowing.

And we’re all clapping.

I want to go home but I don't have a home.

I live in the middle space between where you're driving from
and where you're driving to.
I live on backseats and inside large purses.

I live in vending machines
and beds you used to sleep in all the time
but don't sleep in anymore
because you moved away.

I live on driveways that got redone while you were gone,
and new haircuts you couldn't see because you weren't there.

I live on promises that we'll do something.

I live in those cool new sunglasses you got,
but they broke,
and I never got to see your wear them.

I live in the little space between you and your lover,
the one that feels like "I love you"
but really means
"I love you, but I'm not in love with you."

I live on unsatisfactory naps
and the island your friends put you on when you finally said what you'd been wanting to say.

I live under the rug when you complain about people behind their backs
because no one really knows how to tell someone they don't like them
for who they are...
as a person.

I live in every spare shoebox that isn't filled with notes
and gets jealous of the other shoeboxes that are filled with notes.

I live on the top bunk
and I've never fallen off

but I'm still kind of scared that I will one day.

I live on the laugh that lets me know you're still listening.  

I live where I never wanted to live,
but I live here,
because I choose to live here.
And you live there because you choose to live there,
even if it doesn't seem that way.

I'm here and you're there.
I'm here for you and you're there for me,
even if it doesn't seem that way.

This is where I live.
You should send me a letter some time.