'And then I'll figure out what shade the streetlights are.'

I did it.
I did it baby.
I figured out
what was making me
itch.

Too much coffee, Sunshine.
And too little air, Honey.

Not enough eyes open
too many photographs,
answering questions
but asking none.

I need to get out baby-
and dance.
and write a few poems.

And let the town get dark on me.

I'm gonna
be mad
be sad
get angry
eat what I taste

and cry.

And then I'll figure out what shade
the street lights are.