i came out of despairing with the help of two words
that kissed my eyelids and sighed smiles in my hair:
                                                                             at least
i can curl my toes in soft mud one moment and thousand count cotton the next
at least this is a world where hyacinths smell like forgiveness each spring
at least i have the luxury of dreaming
at least i can sit in sanctuary with my thoughts far from my safety
at least there are kids like aphasia spouting precisely what you know but can't think
at least strawberries taste like blooming on my tongue
at least there's a whole day devoted to mischief and my boy was born heir to april
at least  i can find solace in the belly fur of a sleeping cat
at least there's patience in sadness

walking along the trash and ice filled streets of the upper west side every head is turning to look at him with his hand in my pocket like it's a crime for a portrait to be framed with driftwood like fat thighs and wobbling jaws.

sometimes i convince myself that i am projecting my attraction to his spider legs in skinny jeans and lilting accent whispering rainforests and crocodile beaches onto every girl we encounter but then--

we're in the bronx strolling through the frozen zoo a girl chattering on her phone goes dumb momentarily in the middle of a story as her eyes rake his Tam-Lin nose and James Potter hair and i can tell he's trying not to laugh when he glances sideways at me smirking and squeezed a love handle.

it's fashion week and models are strolling through central park with mannequin joints rattling in the cold and painted lips smiling and lashes batting and some boys with frosted tips watch his back jeans pockets with canary-caught satisfaction.

in east harlem at a dive with pitchers of **** as centerpieces, a swedish barmaid asks him for his number and serves me a skunked shandy.

the lady cop forgot to write my ticket after she checked his ID "so australia, huh?" as she sidles up to the dangling license plate and shattered headlights

in line for a coffee in my hometown two giggling teenagers have a carrying conversation "they fit together though, in a weird way like bert and ernie"

i love you, but walking with you is like wearing a sign reading "great personality, i guess" though you couldn't read it because the message is distended, stretched over x-acto scarred rolls and flopping flesh, gibbous ******* and bulging armpits

every eyebrow quirk and coy smile reminds me how absurd it is that you draw me close and tell me i smell like fire and my face is like a doll's and my hips serve practical purposes and my eyes are big as a sailor soldier and you lift me when we dance to tv themes and whine like a puppy when i forget to kiss you on my way out the door resonating inexplicable affection

walking alone through airport terminals not a single glance is wasted on me as i kiss you through baggage check so i take the final opportunity for invisibility with makeup smearing gusto and mourn how much braver i am when i am with you.