The light becomes so strange when you move too close.
You become the buzz around the porch lamp,
bothering the swing, the trees, the porch itself.
But I know the feeling, standing near you especially,
when I am being drawn into fluorescent things.
Although, this light makes your skin bored
while the color inches off of you.
All the crevasses of your skin darken.
Color hides underneath the creases in your clothes.
And you stand beneath white lights in a butcher uniform.
You tell me you do not eat meat. I don’t either,
but I’m still standing here buzzing because
We are drawn to dangerous places.
