Love is like a bug bite

On a totally personal note, I HATE MOSQUITO BITES and I can’t believe I wrote a love poem out of this itchy mess.

It reddens with the insatiable
guilty pleasure; dexterous fingertips
brushing repeatedly against
the mosquito-kiss, both caught
and liberated, my freedom and
sweet imprisonment: surrender,
to the bug of love

 

 

a hot day on a crowded bus

1682127-poster-1280-heat-egg

A star is born

The miniature sun inside of me rotates

and turns, pulls me inwards with its

sweltering gravity; every cell in my body

writhes, tangoes, burning

The mindlessness of it wrenches

my limbs from side to side

I want to slap myself

I am bursting through my shirt

helpless like a broken stuffed puppet

I am swelling from this summer curse

I can no longer contain my fire

I need to be iced from head to toe

I need to swim in a sea of lemonade

I need a personal wind

My own portable air-conditioned space-time

I need to scream and hysterically fan myself

I need water

I need to pant like a dog

I need a shower

I need to get OUT!

OUT!

I NEED

TO GET

OUT

OF

THIS

GODFORSAKEN

OVEN-BUS