“Is this what we’ll be like in twenty years?”

A hint of sarcastic laughter sneaks through
your voice as you mock our Saturday night
of quiet conversation
over brimming cups of tea.
The secondhand table wobbles a little,
and the spots that last year’s tenants left
on the carpet match the breakfast
still stuck to the tablecloth
(at least there’s now a tablecloth).
The dishwasher hums between discussions
of the fall of man and the filioque,
a feather of steam curling up around
your face, like sweet sticky incense prayed up to heaven
on the tail of a tenor’s vibrato.

“I hope so.”

She rode by motorbike,
one bag and an oily rag swung
over the handle bars.
A little denim jacket and a lavender
scarf wrapped all around.
Her cheeks were charred
from the cold when she got to me
so I packed in kisses
to cool them down.

Get wise to me.
The sun will rise and you'll see
that this windy night
was no match for you and me.
Get wise to me.
When all the leaves are falling down,
when the wind makes a wicked sound,
we'll walk side by side.
Get wise to me.
When you see inside of me
you'll know what it means
to have a home in a heart.
Get wise to me.
Don't be as shy as me,
tell me how it is
and how it's going to be.

Lying on top of you breathlessly panting
(2am, nonexistent sleep schedule)
I almost said “I love you” which turned into
“I love...how you make me feel” you knew it
and I knew it. I almost ******* up.

When we wake up
(11:27, barely made it to morning)
you get in the shower and I stay in bed.
The morning feeling never lasts long, soon
you’re on the phone making plans you can’t tell me about;

illegal. Many thousands of dollars.
“Don’t tell anyone baby. Shouldn’ta asked questions”
But who would I tell?
You’re my favorite person here.

Long day, back in bed. I made you a fake pie
(12am, pudding and peanut butter in the fridge)
after you took me to see the puppies
(I didn't even have to ask twice to go).
Curled up around you I kiss your tattoos,
the picture you drew, inked into your skin,
of the woman you’ll marry
(you’ll have her colored when you meet the girl)
and you whisper you might get a few more curls added
a little more brown in her hair
but her eyes and her nose,
already match mine.

You started snoring
I turned on my side and had a panic attack.

You are my back up
Stick to the plan
No matter what
You are Wendy
and I'm Peter Pan
After I throw myself from the fifth story window
Of some ***** apartment in China town
Wait for the cops and tell them who I am
Tell them that I was trying to go home
To never never land
But I ran out of happy thoughts
Before I took to the air
And when they pull up my sleeves
Pointing at my track marks with a ball point pen
you tell them that was from shooting fairy dust
Straight to my brain
when they ask about my wallet
Any cash or car keys
Tell them their with captain Hook
he stole em' from me
When they ask where I am from
Say I'm a lost boy
And that's all
no mom and dad or sisters
Only John, Micheal, and teddy
Tell them I was best friends with the Indians
and the beautiful mermaids
And when they ask who you are
You're Wendy Darling
The girl who told stories
And kept my head full of dreams

We’re like tramps living in this half-furnished house
taking two-mouthful shots outta that big old bottle
playing 8-bit games in between smoke breaks

And when we feel like dancing the house will shake
letting the primal urge take we throw ourselves around
the basement room empty save a couch, the speakers
and some ****** art installment we are still painting

There’s a pile of us on the extra mattress in the laundry room
talking about hopes and dreams for a new life
****** out of old nests, we build our own in the ***** clothes
someone starts crying
I swear I’m in love with every person in the room.

It’s time for another pack or two of smokes for the boys
So we wipe our tears and snot and leave the nest
to run down the 4 am streets with no shoes
sparkling in starlight like vagabonds.

And I turn to my shoeless friend and say:
We could live like this.

Home to a half-furnished house, muffled in sleep-sighs
the couches, the chairs are draped with passed out kids
I cover them with sheets and blankets and kiss every one goodnight

Even the mattress in the laundry room is full
so we lay out a blanket and throw pillows in front of the ****** art installment
sleeping in just shorts, as the heat wave holds the town
the boys let me on top of the dog-pile because I’m smallest
and because in the morning I’ll wake up to make them breakfast.

So I went to the campus today, for the first time in a long time. I smoked cigarettes outside of the the lecture hall with some kids from the eastern block whose names I could barely pronounce. They were talking about McCarthyism in a language I couldn't understand - snippets in English - an American history exam. I cut class again, for a reason I can't quite trace, just lost sight of it all I guess. Or maybe I was wishing it could have been a little easier. They never gave us a course in what it means to try, you know? It just seems as if the only thing that stops us from doing the things we love is a fear of failing at them. Thinking about this on the walk home made my head sick and my heart sad, and so sleeping through the rest of the daylight seemed like a good way to get by.

I met up with the friend, later in the evening, he was at the local venue. He had his hands in his hoodie and his Adidas were swinging over the side of the stage, head bobbing, and rhyming in time to the beat of an electric bass drum. I asked him to buy me a beer and he slid his last two dollars over the counter like he always does when he notices my lower lip quivering. I didn't ask him about the doctor's and he didn't ask me about my black eye. I told him to tell me the story again, the one about the cool kids he met in the East Village and he did, he told me about the whole encounter in the snow, with the lights, and how badly he was shivering. I smiled that type of smile, the one that ends up with your lips curved the wrong way and wished I would have went with him.

The waitress that hates me gave me a ride home again so her uncle could close the place down. I offered her one of those Ukrainian kids' cigarettes that I swiped but she said no thanks, and I was glad I had more. She knew this wasn't going to be the last time she did me a favor, the way my track record was but I like to think she doesn't mind too much. I invited her inside but she said she had to run, maybe next time. She told me to try and hurry up and finish school so I could give her the world, and then she giggled and winked at me before she sped off. Back to bed, I had a long day of bullshitting myself ahead of me when I awoke.

it's different and I
wish it weren't, I'm
growing up, down and
sideways,
learning
everything
at once,
a bit at a time and
nothing,
nothing
at all