I’m a storyteller I spin yarns I cant help it
Yes I want to go with you to Savannah to see the dead people park I want to kiss you in the darkness and feel your rough fingers and your delicious dark there is a special I feel like a husk just now Drive with you thru miles of the creeping vine that drapes the south It makes the world it’s own Faulkner novel Beautiful and invasive If I go with you to Savannah we will be pursued by ghosts of road trip as motif i’ve taken them with everyone
past fingers tangled over the center console past hands on thighs past thick silences on lonely idaho highway or the joy that was always a rolling boil with him following us virginia creeper through the gates of any cemetary I visit with you we made out on a grave marked FATHER some crumbling bones down below and I used to call him Daddy and he used to call me Daddy too
wish I wasn’t like this wish I could cut the ribbon that keeps me endlessly spinning this yarn knitting together images and ideas a scarf that I force us both to wear choking beautiful but invasive

















