#machines

3 poems

photobooth

shoes stick to the floor, we wander past the bar into a dim red-lit lounge. pinball, locked door, you. you’re a seeing machine. pull your curtain closed— shroud us in secrets that end just above our waist.

tap on a train faregate, a beep reminds us that transportation isn’t free, a short trip still costs us. you’re a seeing machine. see what we’re made of. we’re trapped here now, we can’t hide from flash.

all whirring and waiting. don’t know how long ‘til our capture, our release. we kiss from impatience. you’re a seeing machine. our mouths are blurring, hands in hair, bite marks in flesh. we have no time.

falling back into the light. was there music before? we lean against the box, we cannot lose contact. you’re a seeing machine. you take time to develop. wait here: a strip will fall. freeze us in four frames.

Black-and-white four-frame photobooth strip of two people kissing.

dial

two-tone composition unknown destinations an operator obsesses over pickup & hangup

one +1 more connected than 2. you will. and the company that will bring it to you is me

push digits into holes, keep spinning until you feel the click in place switch arms, hands tire

blinking countless lines, voice carrying fast & far on continuous copper wire silence costs us as much—

draw X’s & O’s in octothorps sleep clutching our handsets there is so much to exchange during long-distance calling

triumph

you outfit us in leather armor
tie boots tight as heartstrings
we dance and breathe as one
enter prisms — offset blinking
 INFORMATION GLADLY GIVEN
BUT SAFETY REQUIRES AVOIDING
UNNECESSARY CONVERSATION
 
underground, understand a halo
grip my thighs below your wings
breathe — you ask “you ready?”
to leave, to ride, to fly. of course.
don’t look down & don’t let go
become part of a red machine:
a bell, a backpack, a balance
gripping tightly, holding loosely
i am not afraid to ride with you
to glide across rock and sound
my pilot is divine, invincible even
molded contours promise safety
 PLEASE HOLD ON
SUDDEN STOPS ARE
SOMETIMES NECESSARY
 
as we swerve, we synchronize
we’re on an island, smiling wide
small compared to a lighthouse
even smaller against your frame
my sister thought she could fall
along the same route we travel
but i know i fell for you already
ache is just what flight feels like