Satellite Repetition

when I was little, I could never really manage to nap.

I’m nothing if not hilariously

hilariously bitter

 

when our bathroom mirrors fog,

the drowsiness

creeps into the water sometimes

and I want to snatch myself away

into the shower head,

 

like a reverse vacuum,

 

taking steam in with my deep breaths.

I swallow clouds and shut my eyes,

but I don’t lose you anywhere

 

You’re sitting cross legged next to me

like you have been for the past hour

still bemused by my penchant for CapriSun .

 

I expected more than the shadows

and the rolling of hips

making constellations.

I just watched people go by,

my maniac-like attention

trying to detect discomfort in the vibrating atoms

of mini-sleeps.

 

This is a sham, I’ve been telling you.

I can’t do pretty things with people.