Even if our crossing is temporary, I will never forget the little idiosyncrasies that make you, you
Aspects of a lover that I choose to revel in when we’re apart
The flecks of gray in your hair, the baritone in your voice, the muffled beating of your heart
Parts of an individual that you imagine others are unaware of
But to me, these are markers of a man who fits me like a glove,
Reaching above and beyond the exchange of body heat between cold sheets
And into a world where you and I meet for coffee and conversation, a change of scenery,
A nice treat.

Does she know you like I know you?
Does she know your eyes water when you're tired?
Does she know you take your coffee black?
And sleep on your side, facing the egg shelled wall so dry,
Your lips crack with dry weather.
I used to rake my fingers ever so gently across your back just to feel you stir.

Make no mistake sir,
You’re twice times a liar and a lousy hider of secrets.
But that’s ok.
Morning comes,  
I clean the house,
and as you sleep the day away,  
If only, for one night, you could lay with me
and not murmur her name in your sleep.
I pretend not to see you wipe her lipstick from your cheek,
daring not to speak the unspoken
For fear of waking up alone.

For now we waltz around that elephant in the room.
But one day, I will ask you:
Does she know you like I know you?

Remember when we were young and in grade school?
Hard bug bites littered our skin,
baked in the remembrance of summers past.
We burnt ants by the swings and chased friends on our knees,
pulling out mulch as we cringed.  
There was no notion of the impending ocean of responsibility that waited for us on the other side.
Work.
Bills.
Lies.
Everything that pries at the happiness of the status quo.

But when we were young and in grade school,
fall came and went with no stress as Halloween dressed us in imagination.
I couldn’t tell you how many times I tripped over Samuel Street,
the rocky brick pathways ripping my costume at my feet.
Mother screamed,
I cried,
and we spent the night in silence.
I was a jester that year, I remember.
The cold air pierced our lungs,
scraping my throat with every breath.
But that never kept me from candy.

When we were young and in grade school,
Elmer glue peeled from our finger tips like snakes shedding skin.  
On weekends, chalked dried and cracked these same fingers longing for the
sweating,
cool bedding,
and blessing of summer swims.
But it was gone for the year and we feared as though we wouldn’t live to see it on the other side,
The smell of sunscreen
And taste of cherry ice cream faded fast.
To make it last we told stories over Christmas dinner of
s’mores,
bruises, sores,  
and rusting swing doors
on Grandma’s back porch.

But today, we are not young.
We grew up,
married,
had two daughters, and a son.
Our lives drag on in perpetual mediocrity.
Not a pirate,
Nor an astronaut,
Or a star on TV.

Come inside,
Undo your tie,
Take off your shoes.
Because it may take me until the sun rises, to explain to why I’m no longer yours,
Though the timing will never feel right.

It was easier to kiss goodnight, nod and smile,
than to shatter your small world.
I’m willing to pack all my bags,
If your willing to forgive,
I’ll leave the keys—
Take care,
I hope we can still be friends.

Has it ever occurred to you that we spend our life chasing and wishing, never content?
We chase others,
brothers,
and lovers under covers
but never stop--not once--
to be present in the moment.
To enjoy our happiness,
our sadness,
Yet, we allow ourselves to be swept away the madness and flow of life.


For one second, I wish to be content.
To not want more.
More money to spend,
more consumption,
more ******* friends.
But here I am, wishing and wanting, wasting energy, I’m sure.
After all, I’m an American. All we know is to chase more.
“More coffee, please?”
It’s a sad and addictive, but satisfying disease.

The ocean drowned the sun and left the sky a sick black.

I knew I should have tried to save you.
But you were my lighthouse,my sea map
And as my name fell from the tip of your tongue
Your fingers were slipping and the anchor was gripping
As salt water flooded my lungs.

Dear, I am washed out and tired
The tide, it pulls, it makes you a liar
The water is churning and my eyes are burning,
You and I escape to the shoreline.

You were the captain that never could believe
That I was swept out and longed for the sea
And I was too young while naive to think
That you were the vessel who was too proud to ever sink.

You can have Tennessee,
I want Rhode Island,
You can have Michigan,
But I want Arizona.
You can have Manhattan,
Austin,
Las Angeles,
But please pay no mind to West Virginia.

I deserve Hatteras,
Considering my childhood
Phoenix? Please keep it, I don’t belong there

I want the subways,
The taxis,
And Vegas,
I’ll promise to steer clear from your home state,
New Hampshire.

Make sure to take the country roads,
railways,
and buses,
As long has as you never step foot in Seattle.

You can have our old apartment,
I get the dog though,
He likes me better,
Burn down the bar where we met long ago.

I want Wisconsin,
Maryland,
Ohio,
Say hello to your mother for me in California.

A mutual declaration,
We divide our favorite places.
If we’re lucky,
We’ll never contact again.

We’ll map out the borders,
Part ways,
Shake hands,
Declaring the love we had,
uninhabitable.
And yes, we’ll split the difference.

If we should step on each other’s path,
in passing,
Despite my avoidance,
I will be very humble,
Very stern,
Aloof,
But forgiving.

I don’t ever want to see you again, my friend.