In this photo of me air kissing a mural
you will find the living room.
Look at those curves and high ceilings.
I do not have a lifelong disease.
In this photo of me practicing yoga
you will find the bedroom. So many outlets.
Look how flexible I am. Imagine us
trying positions together.
I am not in chronic pain.
In this photo of me pushing off a wall
you will discover that when I laugh,
it ricochets from my gut to your gut,
a trick of light. We have reached the balcony.
I am not on antidepressants.
I am not here. I am just an experiment
for you, an example of wanting.
I am not tears. I am a myth,
like love or astrology or hell.
I am a room of stasis, without real plants.
I am waiting to be cut short
from growing, from breeding,
from going off and on
the house, the pills, your body.
Come play with me.
My heart is a stuck sled in
the middle of a sand mountain.
I am whatever pill I try asks me to be,
whatever spot you could find is yours.
There is no parking.