what side of the bed do you sleep on?
is he a park ranger?
does he believe in God?
I've planted poems like this before.
in this masquerade space.
I have learned to sleep on my stomach.
she learned how to fletch an arrow.
dance on the ceiling.
sleep with a hatchet next to your head.
I sleep with a pineapple in my pillowcase.
during dinner earlier,
I saw something right.
one or two miserable flowers.
cracking windowsills.
ugly vase.
cheap wine, that's mine.
heartburn and
some sort of thought making me think it's getting easier.
we traded wisdom for marigolds.