I have been coronated
into the breathing earth
by some mother-goddess
dripping in myrrh
and yet
the sand dunes
and forest greens
don’t quite see
that blue
I’m aching to spew
all over the
afternoon.

sipping sunday
through the pink straw
I stole
I feel a bit older
and stupid because
the sky is there
just mocking me,
might send me somewhere
it can’t afford to
fly to
and suddenly
it was all a rehashed parody
and I’m wet on the gym floor
and I’m shaking
and I’m asking you
why,
WHY,
WHY