gypsy steps in any direction

 



It started with a trail of smoke
dimly lit on a couch in a third story apartment
drifting past her lips like disambiguated specters
absently
it felt like nothing really
just spaced out staring at a poster
she didn't see things anymore
looked at them
watched them
traced colors in her memory
for something familiar
till they tasted like burnt lithium
aluminum?
lithium

no
no
no
no
no
no







there's no place like home
                      there's no place like home
there's no place like home
                                      no place like home
           place like home
                                                             no
















I remember






she used to smile when the stars would die
sketched supernovas on the walls
with safety pins dipped in blood and violet  candle wax
when her easel judged her thoughts
and she would set all her unfinished portraits on fire
with the semi-sober remains of a clip
just to hold a sense of god
for eight minutes

I wonder if she ever brushed against what she was violently reaching for
and if she did,
if it became whitewashed over by flames
that gripped the ridges of her esophagus
till she gagged a smile
and drifted away like a peculiar trail of smoke