138

MUCK FIRE

Every word sings and is a siren,
Work, play, work, play. The lighthouse
Up above the beach bookends
With the turret of the honeymoon house,
Work, play, work, play,
Flashing is an illusion the spinning produces
It says in my heart's science section.
It says in my contract
I keep thinking I have something
To show you, like noticing
What I was thinking when I wasn't thinking
Which was partly what you were saying,
Something about happiness and sex and something
You wouldn't think I would think, noticing
How quickly once around the park was becoming
Sunrise flickering on the edge of your collar.