West Dale Palms boulevard Clover avenue I go to the grocery store And I run right into you Ask me how things are back home Do your days ever feel terribly long I say, I have to go Think I know the place where I belong
Hollywood, Los Angeles at dusk Her perfume smelled like camellias that bloom in November They look just like roses, so naturally I’m obsessed Swing the door open to a settled fire, Capture in my hands: tiny, soft embers Collapsing into moonlight, but Cradled like dust I’ll be strong for both of us If I must
Love poem: Grocery store [continued]
You have to feed your nostalgia sometimes It’s really the only way that you’ll survive It’s how you keep the dreams alive It’s the only way they’ll see you on the other side
West Dale Palms boulevard Clover avenue When I go to the grocery store I always look for you
Arachnids are crawling all over me. They’re starting to really itch my knees But, honey, the way you throw your head back When you laugh At the way I dance To these songs that I’m showing you right now, in this light, You are sunshine, Pure sunshine.
I’ll learn how to pick a lock just for you If that’s seriously what you want me to do I’ll find an online manual, I don’t even care where I’m afraid of the things I would do for you But I keep it very composed, calm and close And the way you look with your mauve lip gloss Sunshine Bright lights Yellow dahlias So mine
You look way too beautiful to be sleeping in a bed That’s Lying flat on the floor I mean, I’m pretty sure I hate when I find songs that make me perfectly think of you, I end up playing them into the night.
I don’t even know what this fragrance is But, oh my, am I all over you There is rosewater flowing out of the tap And a white pickup truck in my driveway Oh my, what am I to do? Oh my, what am I to do with you? So fragrant, so lush Like fruit How soon can I marry you?
I had a surprisingly good dream for once. Seems like the night terrors are temporarily at bay All it was was that I was having a conversation with someone who was looking straight at me and Laughing In the loveliest of ways. He just wanted to hear what I had to say next Somehow I felt so comfortable sitting there in my seat I kept making jokes I kept stumbling over my words What’s new there? But I was so happy, for once, I think And I woke up, and I told my mother that I had had such a splendid dream But it was only a simple conversation. The kind that the normal people have seen.
I have On repeat Every day, Like a habit Muted faces Mutilation Picket fences Fresh paint Every day Like a perfect habit Dirty pickup truck That I wash every Saturday And I see the plane flying And I don’t wanna be on it Because I’m comfortable being right here Because of your perfume
Intoxicating Trembling Can’t quite describe The ending All that I Remember Is the smell of Your Perfume
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Fresh lint from the dryer My niece is crying Because a boy pulled a baby-pink ribbon straight from her hair & I told her, don’t worry He didn’t take anything real from you The most genuine things are More intangible than they seem
So now I’m at the laundromat Watching my lavender and velvet blanket dry Something too delicate of material to end up in this white, vacant space But I have already been charged For a thousand liar’s crimes Not my own, but it’s easy to take the blame When the minds of the reckoners aren’t something you can change
Love poem: Passenger door // grocery store [continued]
I used to dream about being held By someone so powerful That they could both start and end bar fights for me Think I was in my early twenties So my wildest visions Would make little sense to someone truly thinking of settling down You have to act your age In this kind of upscale town
Then you handed me a receipt Me, counting your naturally full lashes How strong they must be and if only Mine were too To resist my pulling them out When I both do and don’t have free time Which my mother would say is a crime But laugh with me thereafter Because true love doesn’t see you in black or in white Genuine love both does and does not fight
Love poem: Passenger door // grocery store [continued]
Your voice was alarming Because it began softening Every tense fibre locked and chained to itself within my body I warm my shivering shoulders with how hotly My breath is on evenings Like this one, in which I could not care less about who or what surrounds you and me They are just bodies And you are warm nectar That only the most tender of creatures know how to find
I showed up on time Your shift is almost over But I am too shy So, I take my bags Spill a few things, say it’s alright “You don’t have to help me” (Oh man, but I want you to) Pretend I have plans when you ask what I’m doing (I am such a poor liar, the truth practically stained on my teeth)
I want you to go sit in the driver’s seat Open the passenger door for me
You with your Fast car I’m holding my Seatbelt Wondering how careless you could be with your daughter And after you were gone, I figured out why you were so unbothered Mechanic by daylight Television by bedtime I’d do anything to cut one of the garden peaches for you again
All I know is that I hope you’re digging your way through the gloom of the deep cement clouds To see what I’m up to How I’ve been living I found me a boy That treats me like a princess I pretend to be doing well But who am I kidding Your never-stifled laughter is Something I’ll forever be needing
Love poem: From the garden [continued]
I put my wrinkled dollar bills on the counter To pay for a blueberry icee The cashier tells me That I string words together so nicely I wonder at what age Did I become so inviting? I just know you weren’t there to see it I was a canine addicted to biting
And I’d do anything to Cut one of the garden pears for you again See your bright expression In that very moment, right then I was an imperfect daughter To a highly flawed father
And I wish I could go back to those days Like, all of the time And I wish I could ask you for advice Like, all of the time And I wish I could come home late to you angry Like, all of the time And I wish I could feel the thrill of 100 miles per hour Like, all of the time Without crying
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Angelic Vicious Future physician Painting spiderwebs in your kitchen Emotionally flat But so consistent Best of the best Couldn’t get any better than you wished it
When you’re with me, you’re possessed And I’m not afraid of becoming obsessive Lip gloss all over the glass You’re calling my landline Cos I’ve given you enough incentive Now you’re touching my spine Noticing where the bones don’t really make sense And we laugh like the weight of a crowd Blanket over our eyes, not making a sound.
Love poem: Angelic spine [continued]
You were born in the same month As my father And I’m kind of sick of Not being your official lover
Angelic Vicious Future physician Eating vegan lentil soup you made for me in your kitchen I love your five cats And your cynical wisdom And when I look up to you, I see the sky as well Blanketing you in confetti Astral projections and snow that falls heavy I’m taking my time; we’re going steady Fragrant lullabies pass the time I don’t care, and I don’t mind
But I paint spiderwebs in your kitchen to trap you Right there So that when I come to feed You’ll be blissfully spared
Angelic and vicious I mean, who am I kidding I love your five cats And your cynical wisdom
