Amoeba

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 

back 

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

as condensation

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.