i lap your macadamia stroll

i espy the roof rack of the world

i try on sunglasses, a sign of your formal awareness

anyway you’re bubbly, becalmed as wool
i find in my head no tartan gift wrap

i fuck around in your wax dreams, in your opinions

your vaseline affixed to my clothes

my jaw speculates
your gorgon girls venture nakeder

a shark net hole, a smoker, a maverick snorkeler

both you and i are fictional
i bend your spine like a talking point

we joust sand like djinns

the day bleaches your umbers
i am your footnote

i am your bank queue

i hunt your legs for thunder
you are my party spider

you are my lime tea, my vapour traversal

you’re a tool

you enter me like a detail
i am bereft of for-sale signs, side-paths

i am a picnic of wind

dwindle me, rub me with quarters

i straggle
you are the bream that flounders

i am you without worries

you blow across this sentence where

i am telegraphed whole