Ish Mish Mas Ma [1]

I watched you sing along to the radio

absentmindedly, sang about how

the dog days are over

and you'd better run.

I wore your sunglasses upside down again.

I do that because it makes you laugh

and I love to hear you laugh

and see you give me that look that says

who are you,

and how did you end up in my passenger seat?

I wondered about the knife

that I know you've got somewhere around here

for me to never find

because it's sharp and I could hurt myself.

I bited your shirt sleeve,

that's right, I bited it,

then checked to see if I left

two little rows of chomp marks.

I am a dinosaur.

I was hugging my legs,

taking a nap on my knees,

when you told me that I am your obsession.

I am your obsession.

And I think about the times

that I stroke the lines of your palm

to read your future

and see if I could come with.

I think about your hand in my hair

and how strands come loose

to drift around and settle

in the backseat of your car

for other people to raise their eyebrows at.

I think about your pulse under my ear,

my hair accidentally in your mouth,

our fingers clasped in each other's pockets

because it's too cold to hold hands in the air.

This is what I think about

in the snow that is not quite snow

or rain that is not quite rain.

No one ever expected

this kind of weather in April.