i'm imagining 
you reading this
on the bus-- head 
against the window
while the city plays
itself like film reel--
the snow is melting
& i'm right there
with it--
when i started my
car last night 
it breathed fog
from its mouth
like a dragon--
there are so many
dragons out
there tonight--
shaking street salt
off their bones--
this poem is crawling
into bed with you--
this poem is
making too many promises
this poem is me
sitting across
from you on the bus
without knowing 
it-- our bodies--
reject gravity
& determine
to meet-- oh
somewhere you 
are off being
soft without me--
i'll show you
how i melt--
i'll show you 
how an object
enters the atmosphere--
have i told
you how much 
i love sidewalk chalk
or about how
sometimes
i believe
the moon is following
me-- moving
clouds
to peer down 
at my queer body 
fishing for
broken headlights--
maybe i'm right
& maybe you 
will read this
poem on a bus--
i am a radio
tower-- blinking
red with 
anticipation--
my hands are
cold & waiting
to turn over
stones under your
skin-- if the power
goes out
we can make mischief--
cut free the 
stars so
they can live out
their august
dreams of 
being fire flies
even if only
for a night--