08.06.02 - 10:51 p.m.

i am drawn to olympia boys in their many incarnations:
to sit on laps, to get drunk with on first
tastes, to kiss cheeks and dance in kitchens,
lazily humming ladytron songs, concocting salad
dressing and farfetched future plans.
their houses are dusty stilllifes -
haphazardly strewn guitars and deliberate, bizarre found art.
lips torn from a magazine. a tape recorder. an empty picture frame.