behead this woman, she's a hurricane.

she's tapping her toes and you can feel it in your fingertips.
her skin looks soft and you want to let her know that.
the wind blew the patio furniture down the alley and the neighbours thought it was a gift.
you put "heavier patio furniture" on your list of things to buy in the spring.

she spends all your money in malls, trying on clothes she thinks you'd like to see her in. you tell her consistently that she looks better naked in bed by your side. you think you could love her, if only she learnt how to sit still. she never sits still, you don't think she knows how.

she plays you notes out of chords on a dusty guitar.
you pretend to play trumpet and purse your lips as tight as possible for the high notes.
she turns off the television so that there is nothing but silence and the steady beating of hearts. you've always liked when she did this. and tonight is no different.

the wind blows outside and you picture your neighbour placing the white plastic mounds in his yard beside the potted plants and the swimming pool which leaks air. he's starting the barbecue to cook chicken nuggets.

she loves you, yea yea yea is playing on the radio in the morning as she untangles from your body to sashay into the bathroom before you can see her. unadulterated. pure. fully.

secretly she likes when you stare. she will never let you know this.