Meowarr

on the roof simpering with the pigeons i throw sheen after sheen from buckets of paint; you do all the work getting in the way. awnings spattered like lips with the color of kisses shiver and move. and listen to this: the birds open their mouths in the rain spread one wing then another and lean out and over-- the river opens onto salt as the moon blooms like a coin in a fist; lovers part lips while friends part ways. the bartender peels a lime; the doorman pulls at the door while the waitress clears the table. i open a window, you open your eyes: work is making space. here and i have