im busy

blueintheface

my home is calling me but
im busy staring at julie jenvey's waist and
there's a few birds in the tree
singing their fluttered tongue songs to the people
that walk past with their heads down only to look
up
see the sky rigid and unsettled like my back
and all our backs why don't we bend
anymore over flicking sparks and waterfalls
and pockmarked clouds in the sky?
look at that one
it looks like manhattan with all those briefcases
swinging by hips feeding hot water burned mythologies
and somewhere in some little
southern american influenced coffee shop
julia jenvey is humming
along to some band that is just making it out
and the lead singer spits his hair our his eyes
it flies like smooth like butter-soaked wood
in the heat of the day
and falls back down so she can't see his eyes
or my eyes through the clear of the window
won't you turn around julia?
won't you show me 5th avenue park
parallel with my eyes?