But damn, I'm still out of milk.

The Unseen Sea from Simon Christen on Vimeo.




In July, Alexandria shows me bumble bee shaped moles on each butt cheek. 
One always follows the other.

In August, The garden dies and I move back to Spain. 
In September, I circle these blocks in the rain trying to find Jimmy. 

What would I say when I've finally found him
When I've twisted his shirt into a knot in my hand:   

You left home too, huh? 

In October, sun filters west of the city,
as if slanted beams of light came from a kitchen colander.

In November, an elementary art teacher packs his Volvo with red clay found behind Mini-Mart.
And on some other darker streets, midnight had come.

In December, What else can you say about the day and really mean it?

lunch was air
tread bare cheese cloth
my father on stilts

January February March April May June had come also.
But damn, I'm still out of milk.