van life

get out of capsule or in it.
this is not a place for squirrel skulls
or even really a gameboy. 
we are picking still lifes 
out of our teeth. i had a mother 
but she was too dedicated to victory.
once, in the middle of the night
we woke to the sound of coyotes.
they were rattling tin cans 
& summoning the devil again.
i mark a dotted line where
i want to cut the countryside.
this is mine. this is also mine.
picking flowers & naming them
after past lovers: aiden, kallie,
noah, jason. no longer a hibiscus morning.
i lay on my back & float 
in a chasing blue. not enough rest stops.
not enough rest. can you become 
a pilot of your own dead chicken?
i don't know anymore. sometimes
you have to follow the nothing
until it becomes a heart. fill that heart
with aquarium pebbles & pretend
that you breathe water. 
i took my home & pressed it
into the center of my palm. 
when we run out of water, we'll follow
the birds back to the river where
they take off their feathers 
& turn back into our girlhoods. 
you braid my hair & then you are
just a ghost. the hitchhiker with 
the spider for a hand. dear god
where are we going? i throw
a fishing line out the window
& catch a whale.