Touch

COHORT 5

I’ll lick your ear

Next time I see you-

I’ll stick my finger

Up your nose

Pick at the bottom

Of your brain.

My neck will betray me-

I’ll blush and sit

In the heat of my blood

Bathe in my breath

‘Til I’m clean.

The divots between keys 

Are full of crumbs and fur and

Dust expired from another era-

Do you remember how to speak?

On my to do list-

Aka the ten tabs at the top of the

Window open on

The laptop open on the

Bed on the

Nightstand bookpile

Backcorner brainstorm-

Learn french, play guitar, read, sleep, eat.

Gather up the finger-smudges and make 

a career out of it. Contribute something

Lovely: easy to read. 

Like What Rhianna Are You? What Pancake? What Political Refugee?

Stop getting to know me. Stop listening in. Stop offering me comfort 

In recycled plush whales and other things

I would very much like to purchase. 

I’d like to purchase space. 

That lost luxury. 

The chance to hug my loneliness close

In a room full of people-

To meet in anonymity-

To trade likes for the listening

That bends bodies to the ear: 

Dear me, dear you- 

It’s all gone to skinny tea.