i am @ work


& i'd rather be in boise
& i'd rather eat onions out of yr hand
want to kiss yr back
or i could think abt kissing yr back
as you reach to turn out the light
would rather be sleeping
would rather never sleep
my onion teeth
my cry in the street
it's over what it is
it's all us & glass shards
& who are all these failures
& take me to
a zoo for them
show me all yr life in a poem
feed me you you you
it is ok
outside
because i know what is happening