i want

 

 

i want
to write like a spiral
down to the pee hole
of DNA, where no one
will look for me.

ocean’s,
a memory,
flapping its destiny.

you want
to talk in handshakes,
volleykock whispers…
be your cockatoo,
be my mister.

i’m the oxygen
turns into dancing,
my feet in my ears,
the kind
of queer you only think,
‘pansy.’