The Last Great Innocent

III

The silver light permeating diagonally off the glass,
A modern space ship floating 30,000 floors above me,
And coming down fast,
Carrying you, the slant-eyed kid lost in a carnival dream,
Eyelids shaped like headlights, and merciful cops drive by the party,
A warning sign as they drag low beams –
I’ll get drunk on your cheeks as I lay colonial law,
Shaft of metal spinning closer toward the ground now,
You haven’t even arrived on land, why would you care for what’s not in the air?
You’re the ice queen, spitting out Ukrainian verbs from a carriage,
Laughing wildly on wicket legs, white, as thin as mallets,
And just now you’ve realized that a camera isn’t home,
A box of names you wouldn’t pick and a pocket guide to shrubs,
That’s the world as you know it, and I’d maybe give my love
If I weren’t so disconnected,
From the girl who has never hugged something properly…

I’m a round-eyed prick,
A dot within a dot on a map…

Your perfect awning doesn’t move,
Sleep,
Roll your eyes back.

IV

I felt pain once… twice… truly…
And let it spill and divide until it really filled up through me,
A good sign, when we’re together now,
I sink my teeth into multi-million dollar walls of chalk,
Imprinted are my records there and they won’t ever talk,
Of things they haven’t seen, maybe,
But heard from winds of erosion blowing just across the lake…
I hurt there once, surely,
And have never been the same.

We will always whisper,
And I’ll hold your little head like that road kill tale,
As you move from room to room slowly,
Floating through dreamlike pale blue air,
There must be an inheritance buried,
And I’ll find it when you finally sleep,
Like a child you return to your most confident place.

V

(is not)
(as you)
(are)
(is not)
(as you are)

Pleiades packed the staircase as you fell onto a mat,
Purple pearls perpetually fall out of your tucked lip slot,
And I will pulp them of jelly to smear on my brain,
As I go insane,
As I go insane over you.

You are not real.

You are the last great innocent.

If bracket space bracket if pound sign and,
There’s still ice on the fucking driveway,
And yeah, it’s been eleven hundred days…