they say
it never rains
here
but I’m a little
cold  
without
my gray
hoodie
my
Proxy
But it’s nice
to know
it’s keeping
you
warm
in the climate
of the AC
sheltered from
the climate
of the sun  
in the island
we make
atmospheres
that surround
us
a sanctuary
from a world
in pain
stain
me
with
zinc oxide
that soothes
you
and I will
brandish
the whitish ghost
a minor miracle
your Vernonica
imprinted on
my Proxy

The most
comfortable
favorite
bits
are what you
wear
everyday
miles away
from
concert glamour
here
the tides
swell

I know
I can do
better
be better
for
you

The ocean swam
into
the waterproof
wallet
I got
for you
you
called to
let me
know
I wish
I could have
been there
to reverse
time
(at least roll
back
a wave or two)
kept you
dry
the Proxy
only kept
you
warm

We are
Bruxists
My song
is
incessant
tapping
Yours
a vice
grip
digging
into the roots
of your
face
We wear
proxies for
our mouths
when we
sleep
a layer of
teeth
to cover
teeth

Somedays
the sun is
glorious
and the landscape
sublime
You feel
lucky to see
such beauty
in the world
and it plays
at the same
time
as the
mundane
reality
of technology
in your mouth
breaking

Today
after the
ocean swam
into your
iPhone
the mushy
field
(like a rain-soaked
empire in Belgium)
of cold
ice cream
was
friction enough
to crack
your molar
I remember
someone
had a
wooden
nutcracker
shaped like
a woman
place
a walnut
between
her thighs
and squeezed
them
closed

A year
of your
sleep song
was a tide
strong enough
as the wooden
lady’s thighs
things within
things
a night guard
holding
vigil
over the fissures
trenches
for songs
that may
come

We all
sing
arias we
won’t
ever remember
wordless
operas
Proxies
of fears
mythologizing
narratives
played out
in the sun.

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