I shipwrecked again on your glass shores, repeating words, looking for orchids. The night was grand and we flared up in goose fever, sorting our love like science nomenclature. For the morning gesture, we must go through this. Crush the flowerbeds flat, bleed our feet out, catch the gleam of our youth flecked on the carpet. Do you think what I'm thinking? If this hand on your cheek was the dream of an old love wearing my skin, waiting to join you. If we never knew the sea. D

I always loved the name. It was your street, gravel roads and tamarind trees. You let me play in it. Grandma, you let me play in it. Now everything is buzzing with the echo of your voice, like a night veil reaching the end of the world. Cocoa beans, huevitos fritos, swish swish swish on the granite floor. Grandma, you're awake. Can we feed the chickens? Swish swish swish One last time. I'm disembodied. I'm drowning in mud, tadpoles in my socks. It poured last night. A raid

I was dancing in the shower spinning through ages in a throbbing vessel thrusted into orbit by the sway of my hips. My eyes closed, holding a well of paraffined tears. The well, leviathan, corrosive, thickened by droplets of gold and spoiled milk. Faggotry. I was spilling and gesturing in a flurry of sex— an erogenous transmission of my secret regrets. I was calling to heaven on a bar of soap. Then you answered and I slipped. This can't be what you want. Aching limbs fro