WE CAN’T HAVE SEX IN TIME
I’m honest: I don’t remember. The second sentence is a twist. You’re dancing & I don’t know how. There’s a bar in a bar for the cascading etcetera.
A GUITAR-SHAPED POOL
Grandparents fail like youth, we kiss upstairs on the remembering parts. What do you do notwithstanding? I bet arcades, sling twists outside our complex. It’s only August, only. We Halloween a door, mothers put up stockings.
I GROW UP SMALLER
We open our legs alone for each other, talk about not talking over the phone. Then it’s a history & not hers or mine. Was wears is if you let it. A lie isn’t everything like everything is a lie.