Frogs, Flies, & I-65

paint me with skin white and hairless
fetch me fingers pale and wrinkly
let me crawl on the ground
all sides ankles abound
brush rake my knees
mulch the dirt beneath me
businessmen cross isthmuses
in the kitchen
plucking out hairs
that crawl everywhere
back to dayton
as boys cut down weeds and
climb up trees
lease me cheeks cracked and rosy
tie my arms to the high school
show me the men who can’t cry
never any reasons why
scream at the red brick wall
cause boys play basketball
but you’re a virgin lover of modern fiction
you don’t trust men who cover their contradictions
and pay for their mistakes in free rebates
fashion me caffination
and absentee infatuation
rend me incomplete
starve me ever patiently
i will succumb
to most anyone
with necks that smell of old bookshelves
back in newport
and lips that smile at lonely pedophiles
on the levee
who stare me down with sober intuition
melt me down to a bottle
sculpt me with soft enamel
to a charming black relief
then burn me by that street
convince everyone you meet
you don’t regret a thing
leaving us all to perpetually fall
back in nashville
forever appalled at the mess of it all
off of acklen
where you made up all these mundane stories
tell the living room
you’ll be home soon
you’re just saying hi to the frogs and the flies
back in newport
past i-65 to the west of cincinnati

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