Stealthy mobility drips down my forearms and onto the tulips I planted two months ago.
Haze catches in my throat and blurs my vision
I am blue, I am orange, I am every colour you thought I wasn’t six months ago.
I bloomed a sense of indecency and wrote a pile of suns to play with and you watched me dig the hole of nusiance
and I did and put in my garden gloves and hat you always loved for me to wear.
I am a trusted spoke of a wheel of one hundred
and I hope for you to spin us all the way reverse;
back the way we came so that we can trample all the ugly and make new
Make us dizzy in love.