There is a Place in Me

there is a place in me
that wants to separate
and catch a bus to the
sea and walk naked
feet into high tide
and liquefy swirling
like lost oil on the
surface there is this
place that wants to
pull apart like a loaf
of bread at Sunday
dinner with family
to which you air
idle conversation
like laundry on a
spring line it smells
nice but it is thin
like cheesecloth this
part of me sifts through
the bruised niceties and
eliminates it's like churning
butter what wounds me
rises to the surface
and curdles but this is
the best part that makes
the food rich and yet it
needs to be remote out
of the way the strange
tourist trap that ogles
at you in its absurdity
this opulent divide
it is the way I breathe