I’m on Claritin and it’s time to get the poetry party crunk!

The elevator’s mechanical heart throbs as it lifts me higher.

Overnight, it seems the pigment has leaked from each hair on your body.

I went back on birth control pills and holy moly: instant boob job.

(and)

To the cashier at Yakima Fruit Market:

Hey, quit flirting with my husband because you think he looks like Moby.

My lint roller’s the closest I’ve come to being felt up in ages.

Dorothy leans in to say my eyebrows look exceptional today.

At night I am rewoven but wake dragging raffia behind me.

Most dust is skin, which is pretty disturbing when you think about it.

Our shadows lull us into thinking we’re more attractive than we are.

Crack of pigeon wings against bodies as the hurried flock parts for me.

(and)

Dry needles clog drains every night when we forget how to sleep tangled.