burning while brushing my teeth,
before battling the poetry reading,
I scribble in the condensation
on the bathroom mirror.
inside a taxi cab,
details and exhales,
I maintain a certain level
of detachment.
just as I see that one girl
with the butterfly tattoo,
I hope to myself
that you don't show.
then I read a poem that I wrote
the other day
while silently screaming on the rumbler,
something about sailing across the desert.