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O How I Love Nice Pairs
ian griffin
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I just donıt know anything original
to write when I know the words
of the song on the radio.
The tunerıs worn bald like a tired tire
on my set.
Up between the windows Iım feeling pink
and Iım not quite sure if I could still
see what I saw two seconds ago.
And on the day her breath was clear to me,
my heart beat like a little lower down.
It smelled like scratch and sniff stickers.
1
Right now it sounds like someoneıs
whispering at my window, but Iım on story
2 and there isnıt a ledge.
Perhaps itıs the xylophone getting me
again: itıs loosening a tooth,
a fat yellow molar.
I can almost pry it out with my tongue.
I can taste the blood thatıs sneaking
out from under it: root blood.
Iıll make it into a meal.
Havenıt had the chance to eat all day.
