compilation of basements

I lean shoulders to cracked cement and laugh with them

like we are not all a compilation of basements

There in old corners I dreamt I am raging snare drums or royalty

or the kind of small of the wildflowers we pressed

between cardboard boxes on a cool floor

back when we listed all the swears we thought we knew and

were sure we would fly to space together before high school

stray beads still rest beneath sore white rocking chairs

that creak worse than before we talked through films

by the hum of the washing machine

There in vibrant paint and clay suns we danced

to classic rock and grand theft auto and

that dull, haunting hum of portal holes in drywall

we screamed our names out loud

and took the long way outside just to breathe

something other than body heat

you have a soul… / really? where is it?

All I will remember is where your eyes were when you did not see me

There we mused over animal rights and animal crackers

and lusted over who we wished we were

instead

we told bold stories

about bold people

and the way they moved

in us

There we spun and looked differently at each other

after we spent time slipping on static carpet

curled up blurry and rambling over colors

and the inevitability of a zombie apocalypse

you tugged the moon awake from my collarbone

and stored sun in my wrists

you posed me against white walls

and made me humming, faded art

There I learned how to balance on one foot

he packed cardboard boxes with paper and metal weights

and she threw splintering logs at a splintering mirror

a silent, sweaty scream

we are not yours anymore and neither are the shards of your obsessions

packed into heavy cardboard boxes, labeled for what they are

BROKEN GLASS MIRROR 

corners taped closed and left on the curb

There

we searched

in the hum of flames

for any way we could be

that would not bring us back

where we started

searching in the hum of flames

for any way we could be