It's happening again. When I wake up in the middle of the night with a stiff neck, tongue stuck, trying to recreate the words i want to film you in quick cuts and monochrome . . . but like trying to walk the way home in a city in which I no longer live, I don't ever end up where I expect. until a thousand electric eels are dancing on your head. that's not how it goes. no. try again. El Beso the curl of my lips around the silent sounds into a dark room where the sleeping body beside me breathes them slowly in and out. Turn cool sheets to knot myself small. And wonder what I look like in your head. If I am smaller there than here. If there I am rendered into stainless steel and aluminum coils. If I am brave and toothless. Deseo inclinarme le en cortes rápidos y cabezas de mil pescados. My skin is made of ash and violets and all of the things you wish upon at night when you also wait for sleep.