there’s something about 2 am

that makes me meta

that makes me remember every idea that i’ve ever had

that makes me want to write a poem that knows its a poem but would rather be a gatekept song

a poem that wants to be noticed in the way field flowers might prefer

gaze, don’t pick apart

admire, not asphyxiate

a poem that hopes there is someone who will read it

a poem that says they only want to be thought of but dreams of being loved

a poem about a poem that is about more than just a poem

a poem that can be liquid

in language

in taste

desires

hopes

a poem that can be loved for that. all of that.