inter-planetary music box 

i told the moon to take it's shoes off
& stay while but she took it the wrong way.
it's been 2 weeks since i saw the moon.
the clouds are made out of wool
& when it is cold i'm making a note
to climb up into the sky & swaddly myself.
the pigeons have been more vocal lately.
they sing acapella when i walk by.
i'm not a fan of most music unless
it's heard from inside a conch shell.
my ears turn to shells if i'm not careful.
the words you say often lose their meaning
& turn to glass. i have several sculptures
of my father. where does your mail 
hide itself? i find my mail 
in the freezer & sometimes in
the medicine cabinet. i'm crouched 
& begging the moon to enter--
to take up my whole apartment with 
her white glow. the surface of my skin 
turns into cheese. gouda. 
all the rats in town want 
to chew on me. i tell them tonight
is specialy & tomorrow i will be
more disposable. tomorrow comes
& i pull the plastic wrap
off my face. there are factories 
that ship me my emotions 
in 1-2 days. if i paid a little more
i could be happy every day.
having windows is a priviledge.
they can easily be taken away 
by mischievious planets 
with nothing better to do than 
steal earth objects. on mars 
there's a house made of only windows.
in my heart there's a house
made of only toothpicks.
it knocks itself over & i pick up
all the tiny slivers of wood.
who is going to paint my portrait 
when all the cameras have turned 
& pointed at the sky?
it was supposed to be a lover
but she turned into a red rubber ball.
what i'm trying to do is be prepared
for whatever new loneliness
will find me. on tindr, god swipes left
on everyone. i change 
"bisexual" ot "queer" in my bio
to make myself harder to find.
i don't want to meet someone. i'm full
of lunar tendencies. the sky 
is emptying through a wound
in my shoulder. there goes 
the gas planets. 
there goes a prickly star
& a tiny astronaut.