coming inside
making the weather wiser
with noise.
I brush my teeth
with E.T. on on TV
and Indiana Jones
on another television.
in blue jeans
and yellow spirit,
my heart burns
with the best lawnmower heroes.
I do not, I repeat,
I do not know why I am here,
aside from pop culture
and holding hands.
my eyes make way
for visions,
allowing room for wisdom,
but I am late for something.
her childlike desire
for Harrison Ford,
her bedroom wall,
her mouth.
has me waiting
and wondering
about other people's
headaches and heart palpitations.
I spin in my chair,
turning to a mirror
and look at a man who
is half way there.