tangled strings

stick your finger in my suprasternal notch and
listen to the quiet morning light
& later I'd make you a bath and when the steam went up up up 
into the small bathroom
and I sat on the little wooden stool and told you things
I believed in
fractured stories
like the way I love Johnny Cash
peonies are my favorite flower
I think I have magic powers
it wouldn't be a precious moment

just simple
like the way air leaves us
and comes back without making a fuss