green boyfriend

don't get guilty with me
you know no one else is 
waiting on the banana house.
we live inside a mood. inside a dragon egg.
i turn on the television & worship
every form of sadness that creeps my way.
holy are the stale-food eaters. holy are
the boyfriends without any boyfriends.
we go into the alley to talk to the rats.
i'm told we should have a strategy
but we end up talking in circles 
about capitalism & utopian futures.
this is balm we need. the rats turn into 
our dad's shoes. our shoes turn into 
our dad's shoes. i do not want to 
go to sleep without feeding the clouds.
their stomachs growl from hunger. 
hear me out, if enough of us all stand up
& decide we don't believe in money
then we'll be free. then we'll chew nothing
but turkish delight. then we'll have 
a ferris wheel full of passengers 
who just want to point out to their lover,
"do you see that roof? that is where
i used to be a boyfriend." pickles at the back
of the fridge are singing about revolution.
i go & tighten the lid. no one is out 
in the snow laden street. there are 
just deer searching for their dad's shoes.
there are just birds pretending 
they are women & women pretending
they are birds. then, there's me.
my gender is boyfriend & my boyfriend 
is a coat closet that smells like must 
& fever. let's not pretend we have 
more time than we really do. 
the bomb has feathers & friends.
it is going to turn us all into ghosts.
the rats will then rule the once-green world. 
they will tell stories about boyfriends.
"did you know we used to 
love each other in a way that made 
weeds grow wild & untamable?"