SOMETHING

It's midnight right

I'm sick from

eating all these

red swedish fish

in bed

my stomachs become

an aqauarium

No its 2 a.m. no

wonder I'm

as lazy as a ditto

thinking of white balloons

that want to be clouds

and matchbooks that

grow up to be bombs

and how I wish

they'd make Marlboro 200's

(but thats not even my brand)

and

thinking of

what i'd save

in a fire

(records)

plus

what i'd forget

(pictures)

and

what you're supposed

to say to an

to an atheist

when they sneeze.

question mark

and I can't believe

how strange it is we

sleep in fetal positions

our whole lives

curled up liked magazines

between the sheets

and god i can't believe

ryan's reading theee FrankO

exclamation point

I used to sleep with his

book in my bed

when I was green

and read

about raspberry colored sweaters

and motorcycle drivebys

you know,

the edge of volcanoes

(where a push is a kiss)

and Fire Island

and the rain that glues everything wet together

and it reminds me

i've got to get to the Fricke

this summer

and have a hot dog

off the streetcart

on the way

or I'll hate myself and

I think

about when the chinese delivery

brings you white plastic forks

instead of

chopsticks goddamn! thats

racist hahahow dare they

and i'm listening

to yves montand

becuase french music

that

you can either cry with

or make love to

is

best before bed

and then I think of

my future morning coffee

and Tang (TM)

which astronauts drank

and

my beautiful

sister's voice

on the line

earlier

when she said over the cartoons on the tv set,

If you give a mouse a cookie,

they're gonna want a glass of milk.

(sage advice)

and as i pillowfight the ambien sandman

and

the darkness eats me up

I

see you in imagination

where

my heart's a box of red crayons

where blue ghosts come to draw

and

my heart's a bumper sticker

that says

if you can read this, you're too close

and I

laugh.