FRIDAY

I'm seeking action today

in all the wrong corners

meaning I want to be everyone's

ace, everyone's prophet, everyone's

muse. I'd like to dream

that you love me & we both do a dance

& either we know how to move

together or we don't know at all

which is why I looked at you this morning

& said to myself, Well, that's it

bruh, nothing gonna be the same

& somehow I feel guilty

because everything beautiful created

with effort holds a certain intentionality

& that's a buried desire of mine

(& of men): for someone to love me

accidentally & with every single molecule.

Daily, I wonder if anything needs to be held

because can't that be more death

than breath? & maybe this is unrelated

but I can't stop watching this woman walk

around this building -- the most confident

since Beyoncé dropped "Crazy in Love"

& evolution of self is so funny right?

Because, yo, I wrote down a few words

called them poems & look: I'm a poet now.

Someone write a book about me. Where

are my rewards & in the grand scheme

only a handful will ever give a fuck

& why should anyone give me five

because I'm in love or rapture or

a constant state of falling & floating?

SATURDAY

Look: when I die, walk right up

to the front of the ceremony, raise

a hulk of a branch into the sky

& snap it in half, throw down

to the ground. Then, please, laugh

that laugh I've come to love so much

& simply carry forward what we've built.

SUNDAY

Eating lunch with the viejos is an experience

in beauty. When they speak their native tongue

I hear poetry so lit that I misinterpret

the waves. I think I hear, mid-summer

is the time for barefooted love but really

Alfonso said he once tried to make furniture

& it ended up a disaster of wood

& mismatched limbs. What I really want

to ask is, when will I be present

& not future-tense? Today I asked a man,

So how 'bout this weather, though? & he laughs

& look to me & he says, Shiiiiiiittt, it's weather, yo.

Okay. Alright. I'm seeking action today

in places I no longer belong. So, now

I'm going outside to move a bunch of iron

for no pure reason save the vapors or love

or my eventual passing or your native tongue

or you on this bright, beautiful Sunday.