There’s a woman
who looks like a man
in her car
on her phone.
My heart’s been knocking under my breast
I deep breathe to open the windows
“GET THE FUCK IN THE TURN!”
But the man-phone-car-woman doesn’t move
like I ask shim to.
Someone I see sometimes
collects doll heads on his walls
makes skin into lampshades.
He stares under my clothes tempted
walks on stilt legs
in too big suits in too small brains.
There’s the market and people
candy sellers
serial killers buying candy
candy I’d never eat.
You said you looked for me there today
I’m sorry I missed you.
I like you unexpected
walking smack-dab into pieces of art.
When my cat curls up in the sink
its because there’s no water.
She likes fresh water
to watch it, to move it, to drink it
and when she can’t she curls
into the porcelain bowl
like a muscle in a yellow shell
just to be close to the possibility.
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