Paperclips Poem

What are you doing with your hands,
under the street light trying to pretend
that you’re refiguring America?

Spitting blood, the moon turned noon,
we had a lot of money to lose
trying to refigure your bikini body.

The blue jays collapsed in a mass,
but they didn’t even bother to gasp.
We just tried to clean them up,
so we swept them into some luggage.
Since the evidence fell through,
you can lie just as long as it’s true.

I can’t even read your lips
as we’re standing under a paperclip’s
worth of clouds, just as everyone gets home.

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