your jargon is everywhere; dangling from the chandeliers, wedged between my teeth.

i hate your ultimatums just like i hate the skeletons sinking in your closet,
if i waited and watched would the tigers and their lovers come out to play?

my alphabet soup has only vowels, your ­refrigerator magnets count only to five,
and my piano keys and arteries want only to burst.

i checked under the coffee cup but the juice wasn't there,
and when you told me the fridge, all i could find were your bones,
cryogenized like smiles.

your jargon is everywhere; dripping from the sky in venom and clarity,
buried by the coffin mother nature despises.

abuse is a five-letter word but so is vacillation and you can only check one box: yes or no.
the giraffe's head doesn't fit through the ­window, and when it nibbles on your ear
you tell me to make it all go away.

today i am playing hookey with gunshots,
counting the stars through seven layers of your best rearview mirrors.

your jargon is everywhere; scribbles in the margins, tattoos on my ribcage that say ­letters but not
meanings.