Malaise thumps up against me in waves,
surprising in its dullness; it drums of
I truly do. I love how my body
smells in the Texas summer; or
spring everywhere else. Spring,
in New York, is no exception. &
Probably, I would love the way you smell.
Let’s wrestle in the grass, green eyed lady.
To not talk. Is there anything worse? The
answer to my problems hides in the talking.
with you would be great. Let’s get together
some night, & then, maybe brunch the next