doris delay
Bluelighter
moving to Cronulla.
1.
so this is how it’s gonna be huh?
I hang off you like a coma,
thick and aimless
my lust fills the apartment
like a premonition.
you want to put me to ‘good use’
what’s new. I kick the door closed
in the hallway, so eager with the boxes
and the shoes
and all of it
I feel for the light switch in the dark,
arms stretched out in front of me
like a trance
2.
he thinks I’m severe. wants to go back
to Marrickville or whatever.
here they line their bins up on the road
like dominos and there’s nowhere to walk
or park.
I want to tell him something notoriously sane
“it’s not the end of the world--
it’s just Cronulla”
3.
he breathes smoke
his sad lungs expanding like an accordion
in the night
roll me one of those clumsy joints,
knock my block off...
April 14th
I’m so awkward on my birthday
with your new polaroid and
expensive film
let’s commit you to celluloid
you know? that transatlantic voice
‘honey, it’s two am
and cobalt blue’
my friends fill the house like dumb balloons
small hovercrafts,
bumping into one another
with their weird bliss
and plastic cups.
someone picks up an acoustic
what a brilliant man,
fuck an artist hey! with his out-of-tune eyes.
he focuses on the door;
wants to get to know me ‘like a manuscript,’
his sense of urgency sticks
to the back of my throat like cocaine;
I’m only twenty two, telekinesis boy
he’s a lost cause alright,
one of those guys who call dresses ‘skirts’
and visa versa. he kisses my head in the morning
and sleeps well,
coiled around his passive dream
1.
so this is how it’s gonna be huh?
I hang off you like a coma,
thick and aimless
my lust fills the apartment
like a premonition.
you want to put me to ‘good use’
what’s new. I kick the door closed
in the hallway, so eager with the boxes
and the shoes
and all of it
I feel for the light switch in the dark,
arms stretched out in front of me
like a trance
2.
he thinks I’m severe. wants to go back
to Marrickville or whatever.
here they line their bins up on the road
like dominos and there’s nowhere to walk
or park.
I want to tell him something notoriously sane
“it’s not the end of the world--
it’s just Cronulla”
3.
he breathes smoke
his sad lungs expanding like an accordion
in the night
roll me one of those clumsy joints,
knock my block off...
April 14th
I’m so awkward on my birthday
with your new polaroid and
expensive film
let’s commit you to celluloid
you know? that transatlantic voice
‘honey, it’s two am
and cobalt blue’
my friends fill the house like dumb balloons
small hovercrafts,
bumping into one another
with their weird bliss
and plastic cups.
someone picks up an acoustic
what a brilliant man,
fuck an artist hey! with his out-of-tune eyes.
he focuses on the door;
wants to get to know me ‘like a manuscript,’
his sense of urgency sticks
to the back of my throat like cocaine;
I’m only twenty two, telekinesis boy
he’s a lost cause alright,
one of those guys who call dresses ‘skirts’
and visa versa. he kisses my head in the morning
and sleeps well,
coiled around his passive dream
