I am full of audience

I'm hanging on to the shower water vapor, towelling off with one white dry washcloth,

and remembering a car salesman in california, how he told me about the sacred dirt,

a pilgrimage of wheelbarrows, we wiped our smiles. Last night in the city blue spoked lights rolled across bridges while i was grateful for a waiter, and we talked about what the world is like

what its like thinking and knowing that this moment,

isn't what you've invested or the end of the line when you're lazy to find something new.

i want someone full of audience and spring vegetables,

the plants and animals

to leave for chicago, to map the prettiest watertowers. to

put flower petals in your wet mouth.