Let’s fall backwards through the cloudy air
and crash into the street
gently so that when we hit we split
into our separate selves and like the amoeba contract
into one pulsing, breathing blob
shapeless and fragile.
We’ll slink away down a drain and
mutate into an incurable strain
and take over someone’s desperate day.
We'll remind her what it's like to try
and why tonight is going to pass them by
while he fumes over unpaid bills and
she cries over spilt milk.
Let's lose ourselves in a teardrop and
follow that broken girl into her home.
I'll slide down the chipped coffee mug
while you chase me down the porcelain walls.
And, if there’s time, I really think
we should make our way back to the
street and let ourselves absorb the rain
before it washes us back
down the drain.