gasoline girl

fire tastes like birthday cake 
when it starts between your teeth.
an open window. the sticker on the outside reads,
"save us too." it is a message to the firemen 
to harvest our eyes if nothing else survives.
i would like to see what they do
with the bones. 
i have been a diamond. i have been
a gutter pilot. you have been driving & i have thought,
"we are going to crash & turn into wooden crosses
on the shriveled moon." a purple bruise.
your book of matches. there is nothing 
as rainbow as petroleum in the water supply.
we drink the fire or the fire drinks us.
the dinosaurs warned us of all of this.
they said, "go extinct in a way that makes
the next species excited." when the meteor comes
i will be juggling skulls. one for every year
we have eaten. i do not have 
enough arms. i do not have enough tongues.
there is a letter in the mail with all the secrets
to a beautiful life. i will read it 
& then consume the stamp. ship myself
to a facility where no one needs
my blood. i want to be useless. i want to be
the sleeping mountain. nothing to do with
all the ribbons. a cassette tape 
with the sounds of girls making
& breaking promises
to one another. it begins,
"i will never turn into a jeep." here i am.
headlights like melon ballers. nectar 
on the bed. you take me by the chin 
to the old canal locks. a tree falls. the fossils
have a circus & do not invite us.