Boy I can't keep my eyes off of you |
When the walls around me sleep and I lie in sheets I haven’t washed for weeks, soaked in fairy dust, with tiny fairy footprint memories that trace the steps back to the night before. The stadium lights pour through the drapes, the heavy ones, remember? Polyester you wanted to take down. I pretend its stars, and I almost believe it too Forget the city and know only my bed and my pillow and a face Boy, I can’t keep my eyes off of you. Remember, we picked tomatoes in my Nona’s patch. You said, Corn-silk hair is misleading. But then the wind came and we slept for hours down on the earth. Or did I dream that too. Did I dream up you? Make you up, fashion you from bits of straw, newspaper and marigold petals glued together on my twin size bed. Creaky mattress, soft spoken voice on my neck. Boy I can’t keep my hands off of you. And I hate it when you do to. Your petals on my forehead Leaving yellow in the seams, marking me like those scratches in the school desk, I can’t remember if I dreamed. Boy I can’t keep my nights off of you. Or off the weight of my quilt, heavy with your smell. That I wouldn’t wash for weeks, even if I had the extra change, or if the washer wasn’t full of memories and dreams. Boy I can’t keep my mind off of you. |