Walking Around Reeeeemix

It so happens that he’s leaving in the morning.
And I’m climbing through my mother’s car
to get to the passenger’s side.
Seatbelts, steering wheels, and center consoles,
a mechanical makeshift chop sea of turnstiles.
And he’s leaning in
trying to meet me half way.

The stress of the syllables he uses
in the name he gave me
(a combination of
what my mother calls me
and monster)
catalyzes the quixotic auscultation.
He presses himself up against my breast bone
catching enigmatic radio waves,
and an intrinsic cadence.
Ears drinking in the electric cursory ocean.

Eighteen dress rehearsals
couldn’t save his red collar from being stretched.
I am iniquitous
digging for coffee skin tones
bandaged soundly over awkward clavicle
that crooked upward.
I’m going to miss even his skeleton.
 

The only things we can see
through the London flavored windows are
neon light auras,
and the jaded cumbersome sign of the
Chinese restaurant,
whose parking lot
we’re loitering.

And yes
it so happens we’re criminal
because it is against the law
to be still
to be idle
to be lethargic.
 

But if a cop does
tap tap tap
on breath sexed glass
I’d be elated
to scribe across my mother’s windows
EVAEL
and blare
“I’m altercating night hours.
Please officer, try and understand
because it just so happens he’s leaving in the morning”