Envy

I want your Kevlar skin—
evolutionarily engineered to banish
the blades,
the bullets,
the bad omens.

I want your ‘fuck the world’ attitude you sport
the known, flawed self—unhindered by inevitable judgement
no blood loss no bullshit no brown nose
no nothing but grit and gums and safety pins
because they owe you, not the other way around.

I want your wind-washed hands
to take back the wheel
your hair pulled taut
above side view glass glances
changing lanes with sharp swerves like an escapee.   

I want your talk
brought down on my tongue
mine is playing hide and seek again
and the seeker stopped counting.
I’m either hiding or lost, but no one’s looking anymore.   

I want to stop
spinning the same records
dulling the same needle
watching the same label turn—
mesmerizing my ears on a loop of comfortable melodies.

I want to plug into your amp and
feel the static lift my hair
look out on an imagined arena—emptied
and pump out waves the likes of which
never before’ve bandied through the air.

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