I heard that here, we like to breath the cigarette smoke.

Here we rip our nails and watch as the women,

hiding from their children, squeeze the last from their vapes

like a fading lifeline.

Here we find comfort in the deranged babble of the bus,

Seek it.

I like to watch the concrete of the basketball court,

watch in bounce in the minds of its assaulters,

Its captors and its lovers.

I like to curl my toes in the Pacific, in an;

I love you, but I often think of trading you 

for the Atlantic.

Or bite on sand and taste the distance

between the pressure and the erosion.

We leave paw prints in the surf, 

And I wonder,

Would you call them indistinguishable from an animals’?

Our manes grow tame and we groom them feral.

Or maybe our manes grow feral and we groom them tame.

Either way, I love the shine of the bicycle baby extensions.

The way the sun fades on decapitated trees,

Blooming watercolor yellow in the wrap around sky.

The outside likes to strip the beauty,

A show put on often, proudly.

Look at the foliage and tell me no one wants to curl in the crook of the leaf's veins.

I want to press my cheek to the sun-warmed concrete.

I want to burn, but never lobster.

And I want it only here.