Windows

In September we took off our socks
stretched them out to dry in the
lingering summer
with bare feet I learned that body is a
kind of currency how to spend this currency as a
man,
as a woman
where I live there is an owl atop
every
building
to scare all the pigeons away
to make a statement
arid plastic bags streaming from
your hair
(“What a fashion statement!”)
farming misery somewhere off the
coast of Maine
In October we took off our jackets
and put on each others to take
comfort
great comfort
in the smell of turkish cigars,
gasoline,
and the goose bump humidity in the
middle
of a lake where we both drowned
once
she said she wanted to spend at
least
two full moons in Damariscotta
(“What a stylish name!”)
where there is a couple in love on
every single rooftop
they say you can never really
appreciate someone’s poetry until you’re in love with them
I wonder where she keeps her
poetry
in a basket of dreams? at the bottom
of the lake in Damariscotta?
In November we took off our pants
in a forest
uncharted by google maps
(“What a romantic spot!”)
I only wanted to look like Jarvis
Cocker, a confused lady
she wants to know
what color does your night sky turn
when they
hang the icy curtains
our hearts will surely thaw in the
morning
when you remember me as the boy
with the pearls
and I remember you
as the girl with the horridly long hair
In December we took off
our underwear
I found three pennies lined up along
the curb
it took me a moment to remember
that I’m no longer in the business of
collecting
pennies for you,
or safety pins from stylish drunk men
because deep down, all my hinges
are copper
I saw a man pissing in the stall next
to me
she was wearing your tennis shoes (“What a laugh!”)