blowout

dylan ecker

oops I’m smoking a cigarette
on the roof of my mom’s house

and I’m almost twenty-six
and I relate mainly to plants

on fire in a trash can
also the repeat button don’t

doubt me I want to marry this
Porter Robinson song

in a tulip
field under the sugary

radiation of faraway
collisions and after

the rain has practiced
the terrain as if

it’s a xylophone or an impossible
conversation oops

I’m getting ahead of
you put an extra candle

on my cake when I wasn’t
looking