hot in this long sleeve jersey
don't want to take off the sweater
that smells like you
and i remember things fondly.

bright red nail polish
macintoshs and washingtons
on my fingertips,
match the feeling of red wine that
i've made last this whole evening
bittersweet going down.

bittersweet
going down.

i am alone in these rooms
the sole inhabitant
in one little corner
in one little space
my gigantic prayers
from pale tear-streaked cheeks
floating like ribbons
out the open window
right up to the sky.

i ask you to tell me if you hear me
and i feel a cool wind on my bare chicken legs.