ALT WEATHER
I want to be you. I want to be me.
I want to be that red and silver
fish in the San Francisco aquarium
rising purely in its own atmosphere.
Without a whimper,
in David’s crib I will look out
between the bars and feel
loneliness like a tin pail.
When it rains, I want
to live in Bob’s movie of windows
on 97th Street all clear
with drops. Each watery vibration
is the love I feel
when the sun comes into my body.
I believe very strongly that you have to bear the discomfort of being wholly and unequivocally known to be loved. When I leave my best friend alone with my laptop she’ll coyly allude to the contents of my search history for days after.
just realised i haven’t seen gulmohurs blooming across my hometown in 3 years now and i probably won’t for a very long time now that i only likely go back in the winter :(