A generation ago in the hope of redemption
I would look into the mirror, and shave through the steam
Reflected in dim disapproval I'd see
Half the face of my father, the contempt that is me
Looking back in the hope of connection.

He's now younger than I am, since he died before time
And I no longer feel cowed at the tone in his voice
But this morning reach up to the root of the deed
Expressed in a context, and now finally succeed
To move through past the bones of dejection.

I straighten my shoulders and grin to the past
Suck in my stomach, raise my hands to my face
Breathe deeply and uncouple a loud cry to the air
A little in sorrow, really not in despair
And draw back from the arms of the boatman

This is it, baby.

All we are is each other.
All we have left is the right to eat passion.

No. Not Now. Not with my back turned to time.
I'd like to face apocalypse, please.

"Entropy is a pseudoscience"
  Says my dad.
  But so is love.
         And materialism.


What happens when...
           My dreams come true and my life reveals itself as irrational?
            The humans are forced to realize they're already dead?
             I've lost everything, even nothing?
              We all have disamnesia?
               The communities of resistance are bought out?
                 The sustainability movement comes to terms with its own mortality?
                
                                                                                                         Love abandons us?

That feeling is gone
The one I'd look forward to every time your fingertips touched my flesh
Laying on your couch

It wasn't the same

All that time I spent wondering where you were
Secretly longing to hear your laugh in the front seat of your car
I was haunted by those words you rarely spoke
Like a secret begging to flee from your mouth
"I love you"

That feeling is gone
That one I'd get by the taste of your lips
It would linger on me for days
You were all I could taste

That feeling of joy I'd get because you were so sweet
That feeling is gone
You were frightened I'd find the truth
Two years down our path I did
Now you trace my face with your gentle hands

It wasn't the same

That feeling I'd get when you look me in the eyes
Like we could live in that moment forver
That feeling is gone

I used to make you laugh
That familiar laugh that would play in my head for days
I imagine the past, then the future

It wasn't the same

I jump up whispering goodbye
As you drive away with that sorrowful sigh
I don't want to look back
All that time ago
On your comfy couch, somewhere lost in love

It isn't the same

Electric Wonder.
Exciting Beauty.
The girl with the smile.
The perfect storm.
Wonderful. Just. Wonderful.
Skinny Love.

Aren't we a shy pair? The names
you use to describe me to others are cute indeed
but I'd like them better if you used them with me.

I'm more than Lauren, your friend from school.
I'm the "electric wonder" who you deemed "too cool"
to pursue back in eighth grade. So you sat back like a
fool and let me get my heart broken by a boy who didn't care.
I forgive you though,
my friend,
because you were there when he let me down.
And it was your hug that I'd wished had been his all along.

And back in tenth grade when another stood me up,
it was you, skinny love, who picked me up. From a
lonely cold night outside the movies. It was you,
my friend,
who took me out for ice cream and it was you,
my friend,
who told me he wasn't worth the trouble.
In tenth grade you deemed me an exciting beauty who
could never fall for a man like you. But all along it was
your hand I wished had been holding mine.

And my senior year when we parted ways,
and we reminisced about the days we had
you had a look on your face. Like there was something
you just had to say. But instead,
my friend,
you told me you'd miss me when I was at college
and nothing more. You made me the girl with the smile
that ignited the light in your heart but you did not tell me.
You let me go. And I never let you know that I wish it had
been you in school who I called my own.

Summer after I came home from my first year away,
you said I had changed. I had purple in my hair
and the care I once had of the opinions of others was
gone. We spent weeks together, like nothing had changed.
And when I cried because I had to leave you again you
were the one,
my friend,
who calmed my fears and promised to visit once you'd move in.
I was your perfect storm of grace and tragedy. And it was you,
my friend,
who I wanted to share every moment with during those warm summer nights.

Sophomore year you brought me to a party. I
didn't know anyone and your friends were rude.
And when I wanted to leave and never come back it was you,
my friend,
who stood up for me and told them I was perfect.
You said I was Wonderful. Just. Wonderful. And after all
the times I let the truth stay bottled up inside I finally
let it out. That kiss on the porch was not the wine, nor the
weed. It was me. It was you. It was us. It was all the times
you were there for me and all the times I'd secretly wished
you were those boys who'd let me down.

So why? Skinny Love? Why continue on this way?
No need for another heart break. Let's admit the
way we feel, my friend,
the way we've always felt.

For tenth grade me.
For senior year you.
For the times we cried together.
And hid our feelings for each other.

Come now, skinny love, tell me how you feel.

carve my body into
your wooden canoe
sail me
like a makeshift craft
into the center of
the storm
i want to chip and fall apart
to the crack of thunder
and your syrupy voice
peeling apart
my insides

tell me something I don't already know
like what is inside
the thousands of books
archived and lost
in the libraries
of your head

gut my organs
with your sharp
unforgiving words
like no matter how much
shit i smother onto my face
I will never be pretty
enough
No matter how much I
starve and throw up
I will never be good enough
and how my writing is too
mediocre.

and when I finally decide
that enough is enough
i'll realize it's never enough
it's never enough for you
taking portions of
my sanity
until there is insanity
holding my hand
with your acid
fingerprints
ghost recollections
of 1 year ago when
instead of you
it was him
and it was ok.

And instead of you it's me
it's always been me
devilish chants
over and over
trudging through thick
hot tar to arrive at
the finish line
but you
I
have bounded my ankles
to the start

I can never forgive you
(me)
for that.

happiness
all i want
it's not a front
can roll in a blunt
something i drink
or swish
or sweet
not something to eat
or a quick feel
not a tug on the reel
a new steering wheel

but it's what i want
and i'm gonna find it
trying to figure out where to look
i've read a number of books
to see what in the world
happiness looks
like

i saw it in a kid
he was riding his bike
and another little boy with his father
flying a kite
i saw it in the face
of the kenyan who won the boston marathon race
i saw it in the eyes
of a young couple
and it was two guys
i see it in the sun
in the beaming rays
when it grazes my face

i smell it in the kitchen
mother's cooking dinner
the roast is in the oven
and the dog is by her side
i saw it in her face
in her eyes
when id come home from work
she'd jump off the couch
in a very quick spurt
and start barking
jumping
and licking
and playing
happiness
i miss it
wish it was staying

i'm gonna find it
no matter how hard i try
i'm going to make it
through the world i'll glide
in happiness
i always strive
for happiness

but how do i get it?
do i stop try?
or go harder?
travel waters uncharted
boats not chartered
i seek happiness
i want to be smarter

happiness
i'd rather it not
have a price
can't be bought
but happiness
past present
all i sought
all i seek
just had a dream
and in the future
i see
happiness

Do you want to live forever?
said the Gardener to me,
tending to a creeping thought
and watering the sea.

I replied, no, but thanks, you see,
I'd rather be a tree.
And spread my branches out
to
shelter creatures underneath.

A tree? A tree? He whispered tentatively.
Why, I can't remember what it be.
That word. That thought. That memory.
He shook his head and shrugged at me.

(So I scratched a crude drawing in the dirt
and The Gardener squatted there pondering at it a while,
robes lifted up above bony knees)

But I do that too, said He, jumping up quite suddenly.
Pardon me, but I just see no need - No need to be a tree!
Just beg a princely role of me
and I shall fill your fantasy!
I said, thanks, but well, you see..
I'd rather be a tree.

He paused for quite a while.
Then said okay, a little hesitantly.
Then said that he would not be that okay
until he sees these silly things called trees.
And until he sees the purpose of the thing it is
that means so wonderfully much to me
to
want to be a tree.

So He turned me to a tree and put me in a park.
Where couples came and families
and cuddling lovers in the dark.
And colored birds were friends to me
and I sheltered all of them beneath.
And spread new life through little seeds
and quenched the world its need to breathe.
And in the autumn dropped my leaves
to feed the insects in the weeds.
I stretched my roots in
luscious ground and saw such beauty all around.
I was
old and happy as only a tree
could ever wish or hope
to be.
And then one day I saw a face, quite out of place, was watching me.

And He said..

You are very naturally a tree
and have done so extraordinarily well in green
that I will leave you be to live your dream.
And as he walked away, it seemed
he smiled happily back at me.