stress ball

i need to close my hand around
the soft world to make it stop. 
my fist becomes a bird house & all
the lightbulbs arrive to feast. i have a neighbor
who never leaves her house. she waves
from the window, a little moon in her hand.
i ignore most of my stress because
if i peered at it too closely it would be 
unbearable. there is no money. not in the walls
or the windows or the screens. i reopen 
some of my selling-my-self accounts. i can
bring you a pizza. i can bring you 
a ghost. i can close my fist tight
& pretend something is leaving me. 
my partner tells me he is going to tie me up
& throw me in the closet so that i will rest. 
i do not think that will help. there are
dragons & computer in my brain that 
i will use to mine for coin. at a truck stop
maybe in new jersey or maybe 
in new york, i see a machine that says,
"get bit coin here." another one says,
"i can make you ice cream." i do not buy
the robot ice cream but i want it more
than i like to admit. i disappear inside my own
mouth whenever i can. i bit the stress ball open
& let the sofa stuff bleed onto the floor.
i feel like a great cloud sulking around
unable to rain. the first records of stress balls
are from 1300s china. instead of soft though
they were metal. believed to bring good health
& peace. we have been squeezing 
tight as we can for centuries. i have never learned
how to let go. not of the dark or the mailbox.
the one neighbor drives a fast car at night
down the cornfield roads. he likes to try
& punch it right at the top of the hill
so that he goes airborne just for a moment. 
a car can be a stress ball & so can a mother.
i try really hard to cry but can't manage it. 
instead, i eat a sour peach. it is not a stress ball
but at least it is a moon. it is thankfully still summer.  
there are still cicadas singing all day long. 
sometimes in the throws of their song 
i can feel like i am the stress ball instead of
the fist. wrap you fingers around me. 
hold me until i am as soft as i can be.