These past few weeks, waking up has physically hurt.
That sinking pain that drowns your heart in grief,
I feel it.
As if there was a rhyme or reason for the self pity
That climbs into bed at night,
After smiles and the fight,
And stares with sad eyes
Hoping and diving into cold sheets that dream
You are the deep blue,
And he was a stream.

Cape May beckons your presence,
Impatiently crashing and pulling against the sharp shards of rock, Your fingers beg for land
Your lungs beg for air
And yet, you beg for the deep blue trench beneath

Even as a child, my mother told me to stray from the boy with auburn hair.
Who lived in the house by the sea
Struggling to be more than just my summer lover.
More than an annual kiss near passing ferries,
More than just your pale skin,
On my dark skin, in the sand of July

Summer passed, I was not there
Summer passed, I was not there,
This summer passed, I was not there and you shattered,
Drowning.
No longer a part of me,
You are now part of the sea,
salt,
and sky.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

America needs a poor, ***** mother for president.
We need a Muslim for vice president and a feminist to lead the army.
America needs a homeless man with no health insurance and AIDS to allocate food stamps,
gays to run the senate, and lesbians to run the house.

America needs a president who’s been shot at,
*****,
and ****** on his whole life.
A person who has held their dying child,
losing a battle that cancer has already won,
buried up to the knees hospital bills.

America should be run by a person that wakes up every morning with no heat or air conditioner.
Who has fought in a war,
shakes in the night,
and lives on minimum wage.
Someone who takes the bus,  the subway, and owns one pair of sneakers,
There is no time or money for anything else.

We need an inner city teacher for president.
Someone who spends 4 hours on Sundays preaching for president,
Just to go home and put on his wife's dress.

America needs a straight talker and a street walker to head the FBI.
An illegal for the CIA,
And a transgender for the DOJ.
But that will never happen.
What I have realized is that there is no longer a distinction between what is right, and what is real.

Real, is a leader is one that has been to the free clinic,
waited in line at the DMV,
and buys clothes from Walmart.
Real, is a president that is no stranger to violence.
A vice president who has been to county.
That has been fed jail food,
strip searched,
and wasted years that they will never get back.

We, the people do not fly around in private jets,
Puffing on Cuban cigars.
We, the people do not solely consist of old, rich men,
Making decisions for young, poor women.
Telling us what we can and can’t do.
Who we can and can’t love.
Widening the gap between the haves and haves nots.  

We the people know hard work,
We know blood,
We know sweat,
We know tears,
But what we do not know,
Is how to engage ourselves in the goings on in the world around us.
Take responsibility,
hold your own,
and question everything.