grass fire drinking gasoline

(title from soul coughing)

she tells him ways to cool the burn
but they don't apply to her. hypocrisis
on the laundry floor. she yells desire out
of the room. independent opportunist
on the lee side of the bidet.

talking in the third person, detachable.
they're awesome, too bad they're dead.
the stuff that's coming out now, she'll never hear.

she likes to think about it that way.
tends to get ahead of things imaging future
before it occurs, then she's already been there.
flash foward to his new life when she's
got six feet and spider webs for a bed.


so it goes this way, sub and pro consciously.
bodily contact making end runs around respect.
she pulls the needle out of their veins. reactionay
symptoms display a cooling of global weather.

hurricanes veer north after making veiled threats
to coastlines. the iberian peninusula takes
off into the atlantic, petulant and humming.
there are olive trees growing in her arms

where the wild sea tosses her hair like silver
racetracks on fantasy's glycerine.
he follows, unsure of anything
except the need for glimmering embers.