We’d leapt, then—joined a risk. We thought this winter
could act a clean edge to nick
our sass and lax. (Sequestered, we sharpen our angles
on one another.) Haul of
boxes, maps, spit-shine & crease—but scratching already
at the door of it a small blizzard
that we ignored, growing. We have ourselves for warmth
and some lamps for reading. Fluid drawn,
transferred, dispersed. Organic heat of the drink taken neat: You
were in the kitchen when the first
flake clung to the pane. The alchemy of electric doesn’t lie:
at the center of each is the germ, fleck
of glass. You know …

I have pictures of me at the water
pictures of me in a pose that I admire.
At the corners of my mirror
stand pictures of me by the water.

Download “Touring the Erotic Museum” as a PDF.

1. Can you feel each internal organ operating?
(a) Streetlights go out over me as I walk under them.
(b) Streetlights turn on over me as I walk under them.
(c) A sublime abstraction.
(d) I won’t tell if you don’t.
2. Are you prepared to be satisfied with a vague immanence?
(a) mechanical soliloquy
(b) all peaceful on the ocean floor
(c) broken bottles reflecting sunlight
(d) strange happenings in small towns
3. Will the trains run on time?
(a) I will grow up to be my father.
(b) I will grow up to be my mother.
(c) Crisp money from an …