How Like You

You would have thought it over. Your precious mind would surge all over that like rising tide.
The bonfire would drown and some kid would always decide to swim out as far as he could.
The good ideas are sweet under the shiny sky with just a hint of something ugly, soft and cold.

But you shake that off because it's sunny now and you and I have things to do and are busy.
Watching the ants move or moving with the flow as the six legged trio plugs into every hole,
you taste delicious like the bell rings when the door opens and you've got the ovens going hot.

I bring you curling into my mouth like smoke and you bring me home. We fuck. It refreshes us.
Part of me gets up into a small corner niche and won't come down until the screaming stops,
and then a hot bun with butter and whatever spilled when you swept out the door. The tiled floor.

Two open holes draw us toward them. Two more tell you to run when I come into your mind.
I'm looking for a place to hide. Watching you from within as if I were what you saw, as one.
I don't know why you never called on the good night, black, well-lit. Rising sun young alone.

You could have thought it over. Still sore about the other night you could have called out
your voice wet with foam as if watching the stars gather into the bright center of the hole
left you drifting out there watching for me to seem nearer. Lighter than sparks in the air.

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