echo suitcase 

we spent all weekend pickling wings.
save the distance you need
to escape. knocking on the door
the echo salesmen are determined
to make a repetition out of you.
perform the same mistake again
& become a voiceover. i am talking
into a lady bug's heartache. i am
calling friends i haven't spoken to
in lifetimes. i say, "do you remember
when we tried to eat the bible?"
the person on the other line replies,
"do i know you?" we buy a vintage 
& show it off the neighbors. they are
very jealous. why should you
punch a hole in the wall? because
there is blood beneath there waiting
to get out. the salesmen would kneel
in front of their suitcases like an altar.
here is the god of your promise. here is
what you can deserve for the price
of a return. i will not be going back.
i have done that before & each time
it involved more grease. slipping
into a jello mold in the shape of a jesus.
i don't have enough eye lashes to trade. i don't
believe in "this time around." instead,
i know that once there is a mountain
there is another version of you
living there. he is happy & safe 
& his only job is to repeat exactly 
what you say. whisper in the dark.
shout in the afternoon at the tangerine moon.
i don't want to be blamed for what
i reenact. the question becomes though
then who is? i am a puppet of my own puppet.
go ahead. mouth yourself out of this one.
visit the mirror & try to get your image
to say something in disagreement.