recreational arguments before & after the sunrise

you talk to me in grubs.
i love you even when the walls rot
& peel like old cattails mucky from rot. 
we are driving & the windows are covered
with butter. i am crying & the sky rain
is so warm that i mistake it for a shower.
buy a bottle of shampoo & lather us wild.
everything about the body could
also be used to talk about clouds.
cloud teeth. cloud religion. cloud envy. 
once you bit me & said it was because
i made you do it. the bite got infected.
i become a werewolf but i do not show you.
argue instead with my reflection in
a bottle of sparkling beaks. 
i prefer to keep my monstrosity to myself 
these days. there is not enough storage
on my phone to hold the pictures of the life
i thought i wanted. tied down like a runaway tree,
we watch a movie & it plays backwards. neither 
of us stop it. instead, practice our new tongue. 
i learn to make shrines to my words.
to take bites out of the inside 
of fruit, leaving the flesh intact. 
we are sitting in a parking lot when 
one of my birds falls out. you help me 
put it back into place. i tell you i am sorry.
that that wasn't me. i am left though wondering
who we are outside of our open mouths. 
when you fall asleep before me, i take myself
to the gas station to argue with 
the color of the neon. pink. too pink
for a world as heavy as this.