paperclip song # 2

well you say you will, but we know you won’t,
little pink bag
you say you like, but we know you don’t,
little pink bag
--chinese folk song


what’s your obsession for confession tunnel dan
was it the bubble lack pram
the almond gelatin in your little pink bag
turtles struggling on the beach and all you knew to do was document

wait, is that a cough at the other end
is there someone down there trying to wait you out
breath on your neck on the morning train

there’s a guy in san diego who won’t let anyone say your name
that makes your name a name that will not be spoken
or perhaps that makes you person unaware
you have time, write a paper on the matter
the matter of dan, single spaced like sliced american cheese
artichoke hearted, spread like some minor key
a bright light canary who conducts the coalmine
everything between the ears then, a lie
the kind that tie you down without the fun



(what is the significance of the little pink bag)




years later, tunnel dan rides the train to see what trains had done
the motion of a girl closing her sly smile
a hand walked by crossing over her face in a backwards evolution
right there, he got down on his knees

some bugs are in the bed
some artichokes end up on bread
some hybrid the walking and talking of certainty and fabrication
where you go to meet, but it feels nothing like halfway
more like the casual nature of college wine intellectualism
a careful sex weaving riddle
a different voice for the telephone

tunnel dan knew that you should be afraid of some of the people that you meet between your hips
six months between trips to the lower lip
she looked like someone else
she refused to turn a phrase
he grabbed at her non-existent vocabulary
threw it in the little pink bag and tied it off
air tight holding it all in