i used to believe your shoulders were godly.
i don't believe in anything anymore.

last night in a cab
we sketched shaky hearts
against a sweaty window

salvador noticed our creations
said lonely girls draw shaky hearts
when their insides are trembling

we blew smoke circles into the air
said no with fluttery fingers
fluttering hips

said no

and the hearts
became more
intricate.

you drew a curly cue

sent two sweaty beads running
held your mouth close to the glass,
resteamed.

i fell inside it
like i always fall inside

stretched my leg
against the watery curve, inhaled
and tucked myself back into
me.

light on. front seat rummaging.
he said what are you thinking?

head against window.
hair stuck to the wet of my cheek
two exhales. and then


a whisper. which sounds more like
a letting go.



i have trouble waking up with no shoulders to attach myself to.