There's a cat stepping continually this way and that.
I watch its paws with my muscles.
Jumping ones strung along the sides of my belly
throw out a flare
above the cool black water
divided by our camping clothes
til my nerves go invisible again
floating black in two liquid wombs.
I don't think of you very often and when you're here I think of you going away,
that I'd like that. I'm tired, I want to sleep,
I want to do a poem, do home work, advance.
Your hands vise his whiskers, your pretty voice teases like a collar of bells.
The cat steps here and there, trembling almost angrily,
lowers itself without letting down
the purring alarm, the readjust.
Sighs rushing in your cat-pleasing voice
when the white of your cheek rolls
imperceptible ink, I hear you make one out
in the sun, in fluorescence,
when we're surrounded by strangers,
blank skins I don't (necessarily) heat
they from polite chairs can't stop breathing
drops of gold bowl into ears.
Out there in the audience like that
anyone could find you
hit the green wood of your ribs
against a broad cream cup.
Can hear your ringing breath.
I don't think of you very often and when you're here I think of you going away.
When you're here thinking in an LED sentence ticks on around
the glass corner of a building midtown
meanwhile in california
the warm sack of me
is full of something heavy
enough to last a rolling T-shirt span.
Do you want to know what's actually so delicious? Those wiry jumps
springing light after light! Purrrrr me
out and around and over and over
never stopping the tremble is a wire
that never stops waving
so hot!
You think you know what I'm saying, I suppose it's
going to be so.
The way I see it is the difference between you and some others is that
I don't think of you that often,
I don't think of you that way.
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