massage chair

i bought a membership 
at planet fitness just so i could use
the massage chairs. the room was dark
& smelled like fingers.
i would only go for a massage 
when i could be alone in the room.
a row of four massage chairs. 
safe with my urgent elephants. 
a television glowed selling angels. 
one angel of tin cans
& one angel of the ugly moon.
i let the mechanical hands
dig into my flesh. it was autumn 
in my terrifying new life. 
i wanted to be touched. 
new york's pigeons knocked on my
car windows, bringing their dead.
how did they know
i was a gravedigger? i cut holes 
in asphalt & sunsets. always 
tucking the ghosts where they belong. 
when asked, "where are you from?"
i often responded, "i don't know"
& sometimes i told the truth &
admitted, "a great widening throat."
the shovel in my trunk. 
my favorite spot has always been 
the shoulders. undoing me.
i would become the secrets of eels.
the brief exhale of a storm. 
when the machine ran out of time
i would sit there a few minutes longer
in the silent chair. i didn't want
to go home yet. my body swam.
my teeth hummed like ladders.