Glass (Crank 2)

Andromeda. Cassiopeia.

Pisces. Orion.

But the voices pull me back.

The interior me—the one

that flies—slips back inside

its shell, a turtle returning

home.

Home

. That word again.

The one that makes me

want to release tethers,

fly away.

Don’t fly.

Must find the voices

instead.

Girls. Devon. LaTreya.

Men. Brad.

Trey.

Trey? I’m

flying again,

but not away.

Flying from bed.

Flying from dreams

into awake, aware.

Flying from dreams

toward love in the flesh.

Halfway to the Door

I realize I must look like crap.

[Not to mention how you must taste.]

Quick detour to the bathroom,