I'm not real, but I pretend I am in words.
May 31, 2011
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Words For Summer
Limpid doesn’t mean what you think it means.
You think it means damp, humid
Page-curling slick air
I can’t dry off after a shower, the towel
so damp it’s full
of the rain from last week that still
hovers
in the air and it’s
ruining my papers
bread rising
does funny things
and don’t get me started
about the sweat
the sweet hot drops
that sting my eyes,
I taste salt in kisses
when I can get close enough
to someone to get kissed.
I don’t bother with clothes
that will end up dripping
I turn the hose on myself and
walk around that way
muddy sodden
hair in pins slapdash
haphazard
even more than
is my usual
and limpid does not mean
all this.
But it should.
