In a dark room, we hum from opposite corners.
Forced breath traveling to the middle of the room, we see color.
Should we look? Should we?
I don't know.
From a rustling bush, we stare straight down at the ground,
Underneath it, we lie on our tummies.
You tell me about worms going deeper,
I listen and watch ants building hills higher and higher,
we laugh for the sky and cry for the earth.
In our underwear, we lie on our backs, on a rug.
You reach for my hand which is resting on the floor.
You bring it up to your mouth, our elbows bending in unison.
You whisper into my palm; it feels good.
You put my hand back down and let go.
I don't know what you said.
In a crowded street we steal looks from one another
and get embarressed.
I wait for you at the end of the block every day and
only half the time, you show up.
"Hello, hello, my lovely love, you're everything."
I say to you and you look down at your feet and kick
around a pebble.
It's blue. From paint.
"I don't know," you say, "I'm just a fuck up."
I know you are, I don't say this, but I know.
I will not say it, but I love you, you stupid fuck up.