[tater tots, sour cream, & smoked gouda]

i'm deeply afraid
that i am
a kaleidoscope
of shards

crushed
colored
glass

there is too much
s p a c e
around me
deafening silence

i want to be
held down
i want to be
smothered
i want to be
warm
i want to be
in the sun

i feel like
an exploding star
or a character
in a movie
that gets overcome
and flys apart
into brilliant
shafts of light

i'm sick
of trying
to stifle sobs
because i don't
want my neighbors
to think i'm
a ******

and i've been
thinking maybe
i'm not as old
as i think i am

and that is
terrifying

it is worse
than being old

because time is
stretching into
a vast expanse
of nothingness

how do i trust myself
when everything
has fallen apart

when all my decisions
have led to this...

this?

...but i've
been falling from
space

hard.*

burning through
the atmosphere
like a
bat out of hell

and it is
the only thing that
seems right

i trust myself
in the realization
that plunging
to the earth
on fire
is maybe
the best thing
that has ever happened to me

i'm not trying to stop
in fact, i'm picking up speed
being pulled
by gravity

if i had to be catupulted
into space
unwillingly

to realize that
this *breathtaking fall
is better

then so be it.

and i will
put smoked gouda
on tater tots
unapologetically
in an effort
to class up
this joint.

and because it's delicious.

Faceful of eyes -

Handling a beer bottle
Like a loaded gun.
(You never tripped over your shoelaces,
You never danced at parties,
And you never kissed strangers.)
How I loved that about you.
How I envied it.
How I fashioned an idol out of it.
For someone so feather-light, you were  
Immovable.
How I wish I'd known
That night
That I would never see you
Never dancing
Again.

(I fancy you.
I ******* fancy you.
I fondant fancy you,
I flight of fancy you,
I fancy-pants you,
I fancy the pants off you)

I fancy your body -
Every inch of it!
I fancy your hair,
I fancy your spit,
I fancy the way you
Knock on my door,
Just the knock gets me hard!
(But I don’t fancy the door.)
I fancy you first thing
In the morning
When my mouth wants to do something
Other than yawning,
I fancy the way you pull at my hair,
I fancy your smiles,
I fancy your stares,
I fancy your job,
Your wardrobe,
Your phone,
I fancy your burps,
Your kisses,
Your groans,
I fancy your tongue,
I fancy your licks,
And I really
Really
fancy your ****,
But most of all
I fancy the fact
That I fancy you
And you fancy me back.

We shed our gap-toothed gentleman coats
and ran white skinned into a purple river,

George (a weak swimmer) grabbed handfuls of
reeds as the water undid a fantasy of clouds.

Our feet found love with the edges of rocks and
our swimming trunks unloaded the stink of chlorine

into the cold bright dark light miracle of water,
our reflections broken into champagne pieces and

beautiful as only two laughing boys can be.
How clichéd to be lost in the heart of the morning,

as George sat with his orange juice like an
illustration drawn by the most lighthearted of artists,

a little prince against a backdrop of blooming baoabs
that shrugged behind him like green diamonds

with the tunes of birds still clinging to their leaves.
How deeply romantic I was at fourteen -

too young to have read Brideshead Revisited,
too old to have gazed at George’s hair and

seen a simple tumble of boring blond.
This was the summer that ached with everything,

like a muscle throbbing during tennis
reminding you you’re playing as best you can.

That summer was the shimmering pause
between two acts of a dismal play -

our childhood not yet left behind,
lingering like a tan line on the shoulders of joy.

One night we drank lemonade out of brandy
glasses and sat together in the biggest bath you’ve

ever seen, winding our wrists together to sip
from each others drinks, his hair was dark and

damp at the tips and there were bubbles everywhere.
Such things I remember, the gentleness of first love

and the way it shapes each love to come,
I’m still a sucker for blonds and a gallant lover of

summers spent as they should be spent:
in water baby England, with the countryside

humming inside your ears, and the sunlight
warming up the grass to greet your feet after

swimming in rivers, and to wind down at night
with a friend who is beautiful,

and to kiss them just once, near the ear and only here,
to wish them goodnight, goodnight, goodnight.

The evening's coming.

I stare at that green bubble.
Your words always came so easily. So quickly.
It was as though each letter chose the path of least resistance from your heart and your fingertips
And never had time to waste getting ******* in your brain

My thumb hasn't moved. Tell her. TELL HER. You're going to regret it.

Tell her about how you kiss her photo when her lips are miles away hoping she'll feel it if you close your eyes real hard.

Tell her about how you see girls in the public gardens and imagine how happy she must look in her sundress, surrounded by the flowers she raised from seeds, how proud. How she must shine

Tell her how badly you want to kiss away her tears, how you would never let another evil thing hurt her if only she was here.

Tell her it's going to be okay. Tell her

The warmth from the light kept his mind on track, he thought of one thing as the light grew brighter, the fire catching all the wood.
Light faded from his eyes, he slipped into the last ever memory he had of her. He wished he’d died, he wondered why it wasn't the last memory of his life.

She was sitting beside him on the couch, her feet in his lap. She looked so beautiful in the soft light, her eyes shone with a sparkle alive with the dancing flames.

He looked to her and said, “Always, I always am unable to tell you… You know?”

“What do you mean? What do you want to tell me?” She asked him playfully, almost teasing him.

“I mean, I like… No, I love you…” He shied away from her piercing gaze.

“Aww” Chuckling at him, she asked, “Why don’t you look at me, and tell me what you love about me?”

Like a different person, but not quite, he slowly caressed her feet, lightly kissing them, “I love your feet, yes I do. I love your legs,” He spoke in whispers between the kisses he planted on her. “I love your soft thighs, I could rest my head there all day, looking up at you laugh. I love your soft belly. I love these soft hands. I love every bit of you…” He whispered last as he began to kiss her softly. “You know how long I've wanted to tell you that I love you?”

“No. Tell me” Her voice slipped out as a caress to his ears, as from closed eyes her lips tried to find his, as he toyed with the space between them.

“I've loved for much of the little while I know you, since the day I realized you are the one I want by my side, when I look besides”
Kiss.
“You I miss when I see my empty hand. You who’s taste I’ll remember in my mouth”
Kiss.
“You I want in my hands here, forever.”
Kiss. She tried to get up, she saw her phone ring.
“Don’t go. Don’t leave please”
Kiss.
“I love you so much, you make me feel like the world belongs to us. Mine to win”
Kiss.
“Don’t go”
He looked into her eyes, that sparkled with the dancing flames from the fireplace.
He looked at her one last time.