GUN POWDERThe first time I heard that the moon smells like gunpowder, I thought “At’ta girl” before wondering what big hurt could leave such a stench for such a time And if the way I’m looking at you now, like you’re the man in the moon, is anything of a precursor to that kind of desolation I think maybe it came from colliding with something which made you feel so much smaller than you were And finding you’ve mostly changed after it’s over TALK TO MEI am on the edge of my seat like a cliff, tired of tedious tongues. My creaky heartbeat is heard through the ribs and people glare, but I do not think that the human things are vulgar things. And I've been meaning to ask if you have a pulse under all those limping words. If you ever say things like battery cables clamped to arteries. I bet you'd be ripeness turning to rot under the heat of my hands. I bet you sound like me in a darkened room. ✱✱✱
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