my body hurts and i’m not sure but i
think my shirt smells
– i don’t know why.
i want to live
behind a clock in a train station,
like the boy in that story
that i have never read.
i want to live in the ocean,
down amongst all the dark and all the crabs,
back home in the sand.
i want to live in these places but i don’t.
i live here, in the city –
where i also want to live, but
where the air is heavy with heat,
thick so it hangs around the buildings in ropes;
you can almost hang on to it
so let’s grab it and go,
live in the woods somewhere alone,
where the air is more clear and i can see
in the moonlight.