I saw the heterosexual ideal encased in concrete for eternity and olive oil spilled out the tin like Haifa Wehbe in Bahrain cascading down into some other shade of green and village and i love you hold my hand Your holes opening i do like it in some color fade to dust and another pulse point throbbing static wire ceiling shower scent of old plastic like Haifa Wehbe, like olive oil spilling out of the tin, like watering a tree with blood, like finally saying hello, like a hug on a mountain a rock cruising down the river into some other shade of green and villge and i always have to leave early winding away like a snake i miss you already and memorizing the subway map and always running to catch the bus and culture and language and piles of glass bottles whatever nevermind Mar 4