franny
bananafish

and pass me a cigarette, i don't care to cram anymore info in my head.
can i be vulnerable again? like the wings on a butterfly?
as blue as the sweet notes that fall from Lady Day's mouth singing 'bout georgia and summertime...

or sweet devious daisy weeping over freshly starched dress shirts...

i've left this shadow, am deep into july,
bare-footed, bare-armed, watching the roman candles...

i'll skip mother's sadness
won't talk about how stocked her fridge is...
won't cry over purchasing bananas
his favorite snack to sneak

i'm traveling past august,
under its hot hot sun
a race to match my lover's hue
out shine my little finger stone

i'll ignore the ache
how little fingers won't ever trace his face
or get to hear his silly kid songs
accompanied by his little clown dance...

sometimes i wish i was a wing on a butterfly
or real blues notes
float into the air
dive into the sun.