wet dream.

I had this wet dream about you
again.

I’m riding my bike along the coast
and I find you stuck in the
sand.

It’s late, so lace is no
longer underwear; it is a night-
bikini.

Your body is a message in a bottle.
It’s trying to tell me you need more
coconuts.

(It may be that your island
has grown low on supplies.)

Your eyes are wet with sea-
spray; by wet I mean, of course,
the way one wave can make way for
another.

The way I imagine your body
feels to the touch. But your body
is made of salt in my dream instead;

The kind that can fall on the cheek
before it needs to be replenished.

Your skin is beach butter that’s been
run through a meat grinder.

(Your skin is the opposite
of beach butter.)

I’ve come to cover it up. I’ve come
to tell you I got your message,

that I brought more coco-
nuts.

for the internet & monsanto

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