Blue blue is the sky above the labor of sailors…
– Tristan Tzara
I am interested in things Tristan Tzara would say. I can write a poem a day and no one is looking. I give one of them my favorite shirt. The other I kiss and kiss with one earphone. It gives me a power I can only describe as flakes. Some chicken falls on the carpet. I forget. Too much computer time. There are shadows in my head with breasts. Come see my “roof.” Trees are in the sky and a basilica. I am interested in the things Tristan Tzara could say. No one home. We tell each other nothing about ourselves and go home happy. There’s no point in coffee. I was never in love with your cat. I never come to this bar. We buy two tall-boys and chips. She grows quiet and dances badly. I vow once again to never return. Something pulls me to bed. People are waiting for me on the other side. My secret is house music. I intend to become myself.
We work in a room with the blinds down. You can eat pizza all the time. I remember swimming in the ocean with her. I pass a yellow cable over the coffee. Two weeks and she touched me there. Coming from the East Bay is thinking time. I won’t run into you. Promises about feelings are turquoise. Cigarettes are tiny men, not women. I bet you’re cold. We make-out against some graffiti. Poems can’t be typed. Other times, I wonder what he’s like in bed. I buy noodles at midnight. Couples on the street piss me off, then make me happy. What’s your trick for going to sleep.
Reprinted with permission from Ben Mirov.
BEN MIROV lives in New York. He is editor of paxjournal.com. Sometimes he blogs at isaghost.blogspot.com. His email is firstname.lastname@example.org. He would like to thank his headphones and tacos for saving his life.