(noon) every day i go into work i get an iced coffee with one sugar and a splash of milk from the guy in the coffee/breakfast cart infront of my work. the coffee isnt actually that good but it is $3. i've been doing this long enough that he kind of knows exactly what i want. i've been doing this long enough that he gives me more coffee and less ice even though i like the ice. id prefer if he gave me more ice and less coffee but at this point it's possible that he's not actually doing that, giving me less ice i mean, it could just be thats what he does and what if i say something in the wrong tone and come off as rude when he's just doing what he always does. j jennifer espinoza has a new book out that i want to read. i reread one of my favorite poems by her and felt really bad afterwards, but it's ok because i also felt really bad before i reread it too:
there must be someplace throw my body in the garbage where it belongs. surround it with 500 cameras circling around snapping one frame at a time as flowers push their way through the skin. i am in heaven watching the footage with god and she kisses me where my forehead would have been. all the clouds and mountains look fake from here. airplanes mean everything to me. i dream of my old body getting sucked into their engines and spat back out all pretty. there must be someplace where this is actually happening.
it reads like a prayer. i want all of my poetry to read like a prayer. there must be someplace where this is actually happening. it wouldn't make sense if there wasn't so it must be, but the unfortunate thing is that everything makes sense, just not necessarily to us.