something clean, white, big,
something as large as it needs to be.
see, i've been
hibernating myself into a bear,
been hibernating myself into an envelope with
zipcode like safe code, four stamps and your saliva still
hidden under the glue.
they do things
real different up there.
new york is a castle of salt
all florescent sex store, 3.99 hotline, come
crawl inside the mouth of me, the great white whale
my baline? my silkscreen? my ocean teeth?
the monsters a place can grow.
here is the truth of the truth;
i have no space for my elbows,
i have no space for aching rib cage,
i do not belong here anymore.