little chunks

I love being inside of a bull.

I date a train, like. He won't quit.

--

In a dream, my terror rips by. A breeze slits me.

Cold mammals handle me

and lose my almonds.

--

my apartment is bumbled up with boxes,

nearly packed.

Post-surgery, I crutched up twenty stairs

with Jon guiding my back.

He hurt me in bed in all ways,

like a sorrowful dog rollerskating over a frozen pond,

but time warmed us. The pond's melted up. Chunky.

And sweetheart's graceful on his wheels,

tongue out, a pro now, top dawg.