i think i could disappear
deep into a milky white cloud
or somewhere where the clocks stop,
somewhere blue or kaleidoscopic
or where all this yelling isn't so loud
i would curl in on myself,
a feathered fern before it unfurls
i would vanish in daylight
in plain sight
into a footnote,
into some sea-swept, forgotten pearl.
that's how i feel on park benches,
the hot metal sour on my skin
when i'm caught up in some suffocated crowd
when i don't know where they stop
and i begin.
i think i could be forgotten,
never quite minded again,
find refuge in some far off place,
somewhere too quiet, somewhere soft,
a private little world cracked open.
But you say that could never happen.
You say I'm all pine trees, evergreen
some prismatic, twinkling wonder
neon buzzing like summer cicadas,
something demanding to be seen.