Tuesday, June 28, 2011


No nonsense, nonchalance is
dressing up like a wolf
boy, barking at the moon so when your voice cracks,
you'll show your teeth with burning cheeks.
Granite state eyes like an august night, poured
all day until we forgot which season.
Talked indoors while we scream upstairs, quiet outside
so we can keep it a secret.
Morning birds these days, the little punks
arguing about who’s seen it first,
well the worm’s already gone
but nobody cares, nonchalant like
so what, I like to play dress up too.
I can keep a secret, I can play along and we’ll give
each other eyes, playing for keeps
indoors and out, up and down but not inside because-
we'll lie to the moon together, ursa major.
You've got the whole damn constellation on your face.

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