gay

habits are

           bad

           this week

I’m backhanding 
my forehead 

and 
thickening plots 

spying 

  on the
    plume’s return

carrying 

the annual 
    haunting of home

the sad memory
of water &
when she told me
to be like it 
[water]

we’re on the couch 
at the airport hotel
she’s soft, high

she saw heaven

and isn’t scared