Because I was brown
they cocked their thumbs
aimed pasty forefingers
at me while they shouted
‍ ‍ Take that, Geronimo!

the soft animal of my body is rotating in the 7/11 hot dog display

Wait for enough things at the same time, and every action becomes an effect.

Taking off a necklace. Watching a YouTube video on car repair. Drinking tea with jam we made this spring, when you told me that I just need a little more time. 

I read things and they float away. I would rather stare at my own breasts. “Mind like a steel sieve,” my father would say.

I pass trucks carrying oil, milk, a load of onions (mostly) covered by a tarp. You’re hot, he says.

The problem that afternoon was that when the woman seven months pregnant, in the throes of fentanyl addiction, began giving birth on the sidewalk

burn me some herbs
put on some tea (osmanthus oolong, please) and light the stove to slowly
let it steep

we roll our bodies down the hillside
everything feels so green

there is nothing separating us but a few inches of cold metal, through which his questions stream like water through a sieve.