When we hug, you say
I have a smell to me. And I ask
"what does it remind you of?"
You say, you're not sure.
We should adopt new scents, take
the ones we know and hold and tear
tether from memory. I won't remember
your neck in the glow of a clock
radio. The unnecessary shower. Sleepy
eyes. This is what we need, to purge
our banks. Start clean as if we were born
today, or in a barn yesterday. We tell jokes,
but we know why they're not funny ha-ha.
Funny-sad is our wheelhouse, but I'm partial
to roundhouse. 'Cos it should be about
cycles. Going back to the beginning. To cut off
our noses would be a beautiful thing, still
I can't pick up the boxcutter. 'Cos you've got
to the core of us. Like a tiny bomb,
you beep and flash, nestled in our brains.
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