ANNA'S ARIA

hamstring of light 

the cellphone party 

I hold my glass 

juice grape the sound 

of you swearing 

TV always easy 

my Anna eye 

the game on her 

I am trying to show 

you I’m happy here 

pole dance on sand 

we pop jellyfish heads 

the driftwood its weight 

I tell you about newspapers 

you cry leg sliding down 

an invisible pole 

matching undies 

I take a shell and cut 

my hand cause I 

have hours until 

I have to go back to work 

my Anna eyes you 

have lost your credit 

card in the tide 

we don’t drive back 

but there is a softness 

I know this road the 

quiet headlights

and trailer villages 

I don’t want a pet 

the way I can always ruin 

a small tuesday night