always prepared for travel,

we come to a dark room

learning everything – cold,

position, desire, courtesy names

– by taste. mars’ hair. we are

not the people on the wall.

you adopt the voice of someone

who works at reception, or

a man who announces arrival.

your mouth is my machine.

some hesitation. then a laying

claim to drought, difficulty in

saying wait, don’t leave, i get full

custody of desire.

it matters little the position of

orange on the wings: we have

the noise in bed and that’s OK.

deo on the tongue.

you offer your arms in times

of bad dreams. you are the bad

dreams. that’s OK.





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