I can spend my hours staring at the light bulb in my roof
I can watch her photo-
graphies at the flashy washroom downtown
I can take a chai tea to go
I can write an essay on the semantics of tears
I can buy myself a smile for five more minutes

but I don't
instead I disappear
into whispers, chlorine and reassuring uncertainty

The spring has arrived where you are
while I ride on dim highways to escape swedish sounds

I can barely recall the feeling of gravel underneath my converse's
under my bicycle tires
the taste of sunburnt tears in Bulgaria
the sense of safety
the white furry beauty

I'm moving too fast toward
dryness you real blood summer you sobriety