snow has been falling incessantly for days,
and the people of my city
have been grunting and snorting
as they shovel on through
expressing their disapproval of glittering roads,
their wanderlust for the beaches of paradise.

perhaps you should forgive my simple mind,
inured by the cold and made dumb,
perhaps i should seek pity
for wanting to be nowhere else
but in this stained suede chair,
in this coffee shop, in this city i was born in.

your absence has gone through me,

like thread through a needle,

everything i do is stitched with its color.

W.S. Merwin

if i once traded a baby tooth for a dollar, then what's the going rate now for a twelve year old maxillary central incisor? a month's rent? the tooth lay dead on the dentist table and like the dying claim their whole life flashes before them, i was taken back to the birth, or more appropriately, the emergence of the bloody jagged pebble. it was a simple time when gangling little teeth fell into bowls of pudding and swollen gums were a common indication that new blunt lumpy things would soon appear. more than anything else, a school aged mouth resembled pink gums with rake tongs sloppily jutting out in all directions. some years later, a man with hairy nostrils would hover over me and exacerbate the mortification of adolescence by cemeting metal brackets to each tooth and wrapping them with lilac rubber bands. my abraded lips awkwardly streched out to form words but after three humiliating years, i was liberated. the metal was chipped off and the boy who would break my heart for the first time said i looked "prettier" in religion class as he put his hands in places where good catholic girls do not allow. my teen angst veneered my porcelain fence posts in fast food, bubble gum and cigarettes and as i grew in wisdom, the teeth shifted due to crack of dawn grinding and late night coffee talk. last week, i awoke stinking of jameson to a dry mouth and a throbbing socket where a tooth had once been. i went incognito to the dentist who shot me with novicaine and i drooled as he put the tooth out of its misery.

i want to live in a glass house
i want to say exactly what i mean
i want to be naked
i want every dark corner
to be hosed with lightness
i want to utilize free will
i want to be sober
i want you to enunciate
when you speak
i want to tell your secrets

dirt.

caked in the ridges
of the cobbler's palm,
smeared on the
mashed potato baby face.

war paint.

a hint of grit and grime
in a picnic lunch,
exoskeleton crunch.

worm food.

nematodes,
sticks and bricks
you have a home.
orangtang special spice,

percolating,

earth's blanket
under my fingernails.

idee fixe

if i were quiet
silent
for whatever reason
a goiter
globus sensation
mutism
nothing to say
maybe i would
listen

maybe

i will make this my utopia.

as the beaches of paradise leave me with,
burnt skin, sand-filled and scratched corneas,
a brackish tongue and bloodshot eyes.
as the finest wines and forbidden fruits
have ceased in their ability to quell my hunger.
as the conflict diamonds are lack-luster and heavy
the gold wiring leaves stains on my skin.
as my silk clad delicate bones and tapering limbs
are still the subject of body dysmorphic disorder.

i will rest easy on permafrost deserts.
my hunger will be satiated by bread and butter.
i will be beuatifully adorned with mud and rocks.
and my mangled body will become the sculptors muse.

and this will be my utopia.