the chemicals in her brain are all wrong
she keeps adding and subtracting more
the receipt is rolling along the floor
fresh from the most recent asphyxiation
conceptual physics becomes intoxicating
maddening at mirrors, she laments
for a time, a place, alaska
a place without wires or wifi
a place where you can't coordinate sex via txt
i have these same sentiments...
ReplyDeletein fact the more i read this poem the more i fall in love with it. YOU HAVE REACHED OUT TO ME
ReplyDeleteThank you, Masha. Let's find somewhere where we can be free.
ReplyDeletethey opened up a holiday inn on the moon recently. you still get satellite tv but the phones don't work
ReplyDelete