I am tired of hearing
how you feel
everyone feels
he said
you are not special
except when you make that cake
the one
with orange and dark chocolate
and your tears
falling
falling

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Coupling as improv

I always thought I was
good at ad-libbing–
even in the midst of a tornado
ripping the seams of our house
while we slept;
I figured we’d get by
on rations

But when you told me no
it gave me a new resolve
and all the denials
did not lay me outright
like before
lying flat like a lizard for years
drinking from a puddle, of
my fears and your
disappointment

Are we a mystery or a thriller?
because much of what makes us
we
is not difficult to understand
regardless
of the storm coming
and are we not thrilled?
your hands shoved up my dress
remind me of green fields
every 3-leaf clover a let down

falling in love was easy
once we got inside–
getting out
took more work than we
could have imagined
doubt oozing around the windows
suspicion coating the walls
trying to read the future
in the dishwater–
always murky

fireworks

last night’s dog day
in sweaty angry silence
melted into sweet morning
lime tea words
over cups, with a
steamy cover of regrets
and guitar strums balm

we cannot have it back
can we, that sweet
close smell of together
amidst shooting stars–
stepping out of our place
to face the world
again, with secrets

is it me on your mind
when this song plays–
1989 is a meteor
and all our hopes
have got to be enough
to shield us, if
you do not turn to salt

Precious

She cried during Star Wars
and he laughed at her
which made her cry more
turning to lay her cheek
against the cool glass
raindrops on the window
like diamonds

‘Isn’t it precious,’ she thought
lighting a cigarette
and hearing him cough
from across the room
but he’d never tell her to stop
crazy about her grumpy moods
in love with how she exhaled

“Maybe we should get away,” he said
getting up and walking over
kneeling at her feet, and
wrapping his arms about her legs
hearing her reply how she liked
things the way they were, and
feeling her fingers in his hair

 

in a stew

 

will you make me stop
thinking about you
when sleep finally arrives–
waiting out all of our seasons
for the sake
of bitter herbs in the soup

the bitter
with the sweet and savoury
is always there
not this one-dimensional
two-headed
Frankenstein monster
you imagine us to be

yesterday was a game
will you take a chance
and paint your dreams
on a griddle of hotcakes
with syrupy regret
that makes you sick
and leaves you wet

shouldn’t keep
hunting for the hunter
running after our destroyer
one step ahead
and two back
for no good reason
except that it feels right
to stroke the dark places

if no one sees
who does it hurt
when we re-configure our
boundaries
some given
others drawn
with the same old piece of chalk
nearly used up

Florence

Remember when no one could touch us?
You were Superman
I was Wonder Woman
and cape, candles, and
a length of rope
were all we needed

Love at first sight?
I grabbed at you
like in a haunted house
frantic and wasteful
horrific in its lies
but she will not have you
my right to be here
is grandfather’d in

I remember when we arrived here
such hopes consumed me–
I tried to love you, my idea of you
my vision of us, your selfish words, and
my selfish plans coated with expectation
left us in the dust

And now I think I will die here
and never see Paris
or the Thames
never throw my wishes into the fountain
I will die here
and never see Rome
or eat figs from a tree in Sicily
and Florence is just a lady on t.v.

You, bewilder me (nt)

what you say
what you always say
never satisfied
hurting with you
sharing
what is mine is yours

and yours
is also mine
even the ugly
but let’s put
a bandaid on that
and some word salve

you are never satisfied
never satisfied
never satisfied
no contentment
in what your hands hold
always, you are looking, for
what is elusive

so I hunt for you
caring too much, she tells me
trying too hard to be the one, the hero
that carries home the ten point buck
only to be in your sights again
your one–your redemptor

is is possible
so she asks
for someone
with all my inherited good sense
to give up decades
for one glorious pedestal moment
when you see me golden

mooring

your pleas for trust are heavy
the scales made of sugar
threaten to melt to nothing
if I cry

why does the sky
part easily for the gulls
no matter my mood
or the weather

together is our only hope
our lies of decades past
must not be allowed entrance
into this asylum