Love me, love me, come around to the side of the house and love me. My criteria is different than
most, I want to hear the stunt-casing fall from the tin draw of the roof, the rain, and the collection
in my mouth. Disgrace me, from a bucket. Leave by the door
                                                        where your offering of fingers is transparent. Wet, they
bounce weirdly. Everything is weird, actually, until another morning happens and you are on your
way to it, another one bein’ just another man on his way in the sunshine
                                                                             singin’ with the coins in his hand.



Who’s your dreamgirl? I could invent that quiz and pray to insert my name at the last moment,
before the trickle makes liquid blue light bouncing off the top of your drink to the finger pads lite-
lite- lightly make up for your lips.   Is it me? There are three questions and all involve my
breastplate and some electronics. Her heartnoise was embarrassing; so much so it got left in your
bureau files. I’m much different, assuring you, guiding you to the street to watch the fireworks.




But I’m the most supportive, I said, after six when the hard boiling is done. One tenth past and the
yolk is your lost sunrise. But, when I finally shared it: do you like the feel in your palm? And the
color indicates generation, consideration, and calmness. I carry them in my body, heartell. I’m not
aware of their status, though. Did you foster geraniums, weirdo? I have questions that lead to the
top running into the water, causing the pool to warm in the winter, alerting anyone lingering near
your bed of my arrival.




I had a great pair of tatties but they got so droopin’. In the older days he wore a metal plate in
his head– and just imagine. I mean before radio waves but I guess there still were voices, only
you’d smell them, too. Can you speak the same way with those old teeth? Does it affect the
words you say? Clink together a response in your head that goes right to the deep of me. Where
I started growing. I think I’m very deeply affected by you, because I feel good again, which has
kept me here and feelin’ summery.


BIO: Danielle was the 2010-2011 Rona Jaffe fellow at the Iowa Writer’s Workshop and currently lives in Louisiana.

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