every word expensive     boy and girl
alone with units of
language.     it’s like the devil
and the deep blue me:
either claw these ceilings to their
original height or
drive us too fast
around whippin’ 60mph sharp Virginia
curves
back to the
taste of locker metal
between our lips
public pressing urgent
in our kiss.

good night, fair lake,
fried-off fingerprints:
fireworks aren’t just pretty,
ya know, and July
burns too.     How do I
answer distance, when
my voice is not
as noble as yours?    oh, I
surely got the
good man blues. I can only
be your August maiden,
draggin’ humid, lacy tight
curls stickin’ to faces
tryin to mature enough
to deserve September. I won’t
mummify love but
something of this
should live forever – tell me you
like canopic jars, tell me we belong in
hieroglyphics   and i’ll climb pyramids in
the middle of another hot
summer night     oh, I
know there’s nothin’
worse than the
good man blues.