Jessie Janeshek
Days Make More Sense if You Have a Fever

Bills getting docked
up the hill at sunset a song about a chopper
teeth between your legs    hidden on the b-side.
I don’t know who or what
could be good about this season
I only understand French film    circus music
an 8-minute transition
my sick cat spread flat    I thought it was just the heat
I walk past the shit on the sidewalk.

Or a row of angry buildings
line the snow beach like a boatside
no bikini bottoms we jump off the edge
there’s a move I want to show you
we call it cold ocean cusp of the moon
trying to pull the wool    over sex in the swanboats
the orange soap on a rope his flabby biceps
or it’s sunset again my empty pill bottle.

That summer our matching swim tops were green and purple plaid
bodysuit gulp     all over teen rags
a navy blue polkadot crotch.

At one juncture 1000 sunflowers grew
at one juncture I got why he stopped me in my bra
to ask about a bonfire
at one juncture I processed that the glass Arc de Triomphe
lines up with the real one
the lily pad garden at the worn out carousel.

Maybe my head would get better with a schedule
but I’m too sad to watch a movie
unless it’s set in Nantes.
I can only process a fast talking detective
in the dark during the hurricane.