I want to let my head fall back, my long red hair fall,
neck broken, expressionless, dry eyes shimmering
now with these big ceiling lights like stars above.
If I tried to slip outside away from you all politely,
the humidity would asphyxiate me, a slow death,
but I wouldn’t mind missing the rest of this movie.
I know the ending: freak at the train station, haunted
house torn down brick by brick, a mother weeping.
To keep myself awake I book a vacation in September.
I hope we won’t burn to death by then. I hope I can
tolerate my own fantasies. I’ll be there in the sand,
asleep in a dreamless haze, surrounded by brilliant blue.