i
wanna
split my knuckles
punching you in the teeth
so that
a part of me
will remain on your lips

tengo
un monstruo en
mi cuerpo
él es
muy
pequeño
pero
él echa
una sombra
muy
grande

quand je porte mes chaussures rouges converse
comme si j'étais de nouveau un jeune garçon
à l'école
avec
nos
amis
je veux être dans une aéroplane
au-dessus de chicago
mais
seulement
avec
toi

hey,
peter pan, you
come in through my window and cast your shadow across my bedroom
and i trip over it
every time,
so maybe i should tidy up
around here.

the last poem i wrote was about you
do you ever
write about me or think about me at all i wonder ?
do you still listen to
the bands i fell in love with because of you ?
are your
eyes still green and
do you remember the color of lake michigan with the navy pier right there and
how i wouldn’t go on the ferris wheel
(even with you) ?
i think i am in love with my memory of you
would i
be in love with you proper i wonder ?
would i go up high with you (even though i’m scared) and
would we talk about how that band
changed our lives together until three in the morning

(and remember
how we were both terrified of growing up and
in my mind you never did) ?

i have not spoken to you in

four or six years but

the hex code for the color of your eyes

i could determine from:

strawberry-kiwi juice, thumb tacks

CD rainbows

softball (

and kickball, hours of it)

chicago in 2007, white pebbles like teeth, and converse shoes—

yellow sodium
lights
(the same color
as your hair)
over a parking
lot
goldenboy