Hollywood Is Full Of Ghosts, And I Guess Now You’re One Of Them
By Ari Eastman
I’m texting you again.
And the world is spinning.
I hear you saying, “Baby, Baby.”
And the world is spinning.
“We should catch up.”
And the world is spinning.
Everything is blue and purple and green.
And I think I should turn my phone off,
I should watch something on TV.
I should not respond.
But I do,
and there you are.
I taste your sheets and the Hollywood sign.
I feel your scruff and rough hands,
We throw wet paint at empty canvases,
Sculpt hearts out of paper mâché.
An origami boomerang,
coming back together again,
and falling apart with the slightest touch.
I’m in love, I’m in love.
And my whole world is spinning.
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