let me be less clear

i don't wake up like i used to. 
instead i consider becoming a walnut.
hearty & winter-ready. my fist, eternal. 
i used to order teeth in the mail
& send them back after using them.
it was greedy but you always have 
to game the system while you can.
they catch up to you. they password protect
the stars. sunglasses on the dashboard. 
everything has been getting louder lately. 
i put peanuts into my ears. i do not think
there is much left that i need to hear. 
i shoplifted jello in college 
but not enough. i used to believe
that the cop cars were always coming for me
so i would give my face to a squirrel
& tell them, "run while you can." i am sick
of having something to say. i want to be
like the rocks who take centuries 
to form a single word. they tell stories
only one another & the bones can read.
there is a man in my neighborhood who runs
miles & miles each day. i consider talking to him.
running to catch up. out of brief. his sneakers.
the cold january morning. i would
make up a story about my life. 
running along & telling him that the beautiful farm
at the end of the road is mine. has been
in my family for centuries. nothing has
been in my family for centuries besides hunger.
an emptied tongue. a wooden spoon ground down
on one side from once catching fire.
everyone wants to learn a second language.
i want to speak crow bird. sit outside
& make jokes with them about the purple berries
that humans cannot eat but they can.
our stomachs are like knots in the soil's belt. 
i have seen the truth. it is shivering
in the corner of the sky. lie to me until 
we are both happy. i want to eat from bowl.
i want to get on my knees. watch the house shrink 
in the dryer. lint sweaters for the rats. 
the rooster screams. it is still the dead of night.