like a coin operated lullabye

five steps to disaster

five more steps to a dizzy debauchery

and he was you

yes, darling, and you were me

tricks of the trade

striped violin playing lines

dance around your legs, your hands

without you i'm nothing but sand

reeling and forgetting names, numbers

the drizzle drop trickle

bloodletting

her name is rio and she dances

days go by without tearing the pages

down, dear dark one, down farther still

you leave lipstick marks on my ankles

criss crossed tic tac toe stains

on your elbows, eyelids

the shadow of my dreamscape

post coital recall

asleep in someone else's story

pour me another, my monkey twin

pose your best pout for me

then twirl, spin, twirl again

without the onset of a recovery

we will be the sun

dewella

i bet you taste like strawberty lip gloss
sweet and sticky, humidity rising beneath your
sun-kissed skin

blushed bright and shining, with a speck of winter

grey hiding in the back of your throat,

the back of my mind

jane, the peculiar soul twin of a girl with a hidden

map behind her eyes

two left feet, timid, tongue-tied

you'd guess i talk in circles to keep in time, to keep

in line

and i'd sit back and let you capture these thoughts if

i knew how to streamline them, reign them in

tie them up in a chocolate sundae surprise

wax lyrical about the bend of your toes

the peach coloured shadows that travel and outline the

room beyond

or perhaps it would be about something larger

our own little state of the union

etched into our skin, under a blue frayed sheet

the window propped open by an overdue library book

pages earmarked, torn, wet from the bath

you know i'm even clumsy with other people's words,

don't you?

yeah, and i guess you still know how i feel,

all my coffee covered wisdom tooth nonsense,

a parade of distractions, elephants and daisy chain

poems written on the back of my cigarette pack,

thrown away before i could give it to you,

a kiss on your shoulder,

meant to fall down

deeper still

and these seconds are remarkable,

whispers and

breaths,

green and yellow, blue,

two palm trees and a neon sign,

a different utterance,

a new life, line, listless wonder and awe

you can see it if you squint,

stand on one foot, hold

your breath

there is a window in the back,

two pillows and a

stereo

you can read the pages then,

and lie back

i just want to see if you can read my lips, this time

and feel them land

sometimes i worry that i've lost the plot

keep art alive; art by chickencat

santa monica, 1993

(mine)

i dance into the white light of flame,cigarette smoke,

chipped disco light,

i spin in the not-knowing of who i am.

the shadows embrace my spirit, grind me to dust,

i look to the delicious curves of her next to me,

black hair and a biting tongue.

we are the celebration of lost youth,

the jangled truths of ripped open envelopes,

shattered glasses and the used-to-be specials.

i feel pure when i'm with you here,

lost and disjointed as we are, your lipstick on my

everything,

you only give this much to me when no one can see.

i choke back the lonely cry inside my spine,

the way i want your crumpled everyday sleepy sides,

not just the glamor of a misspent night in the sand.