Who is the body you want to slam into
and then what

Who is the
in the snow I want to see you with no clothes
but I do not want you to be harmed by the cold

You know
the beloved

the pony you feed your apple heart to

How do you smash your way through this world
and which skeletons send you galloping after them in the dust


How do you know if you are doing the right thing.

Nobody knows, nobody knows!

The wild house party pretends to offer answers,
thirty people are in the kitchen.

There’s a pizza on a turntable with two slices missing.

Suds in the microwave.
Red cups in the hedge.

In the back garden,
you know there are people having sex under the pines
because the underskirts of the trees
are rustling and shifting.

Orion and his big
belt buckle.
Most of the moon.

From the outside, the party looks like
the first humans discovering how it feels to have fun.

In the front yard, pale garlands
of toilet paper dangle and sway from the branches.

Go out in the quiet street amongst all the parked cars.
Do the twist.