i figured if i didn't
eat for long enough
i could reduce myself into
a legend

what do myths like
us have mouths for?

i open mine sometimes
but only for kissing 

tongue slid beneath stone
beneath wet stone

it rains behind 
Hoffman's ice cream parlor
& we are the neon-lit porches

i found myself 
on nights like
this resting on my
back in the cool cave 
floor of my own ribs

where the fish have
no eyes to see us

are you this kind
of hungry?

when i was growing
up sometimes we fasted 
for god

fridays in lent

now i wonder
if we can learn to feed ourselves 

if maybe we can take
our realness back 

un-blur the skin

i don't want to always
wake up on
the old cellars of
the ammunitions factory silos 

gunpowder on our lips

make sugar out
of soot

lingering in the alley
behind the ice cream parlor
in the brisk march downpour

our coarse hair stuck
to our skin

do you think it
would be better if
we had the
monstrous teeth they
say we do?

mine are crooked
tongue over stone over stone

if we starve ourselves 
long enough will
they believe that we
mean no harm?

that these creatures
have yet to learn 
how to eat

the waitress with
the blonde pony-tail 
takes the trash out
at 8:47 on the dot
almost every night

we'll wait then 

safe in a shadow

it's a thursday

do you still keep track
of days of the week?

i do but only
because i like thursdays

the dumpster is green

help me bite open
these trash bags

there's bound to
be an ice cream dish
only half-melted