it's the same as before
or the other time
or the time before that.
here's a ****
and here's a ****
and here's trouble.

only each time
you think
well now I've learned:
I'll let her do that
and I'll do this,
I no longer want it all,
just some comfort
and some ***
and only a minor
love.

now I'm waiting again
and the years run thin.
I have my radio
and the kitchen walls
are yellow.
I keep dumping bottles
and listening
for footsteps.

I hope that death contains
less than this.

little dark girl with
kind eyes
when it comes time to
use the knife
I won't flinch and
i won't blame
you,
as I drive along the shore alone
as the palms wave,
the ugly heavy palms,
as the living does not arrive
as the dead do not leave,
i won't blame you,
instead
i will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again.
little dark girl with kind eyes
you have no
knife. the knife is
mine and i won't use it
yet.

This story begins and ends
in a place that does not exist
darling, I didn't listen to this song enough
there's a graze under my ribs I should feel
but there is nothing,
only the aftermath of a sunset
you are one year older yet
you are seventeen forever
severe tranquility aged youth
heartbeats sweat,
something's ripped inside your chest
you are still alive

It’s not so bad to grasp anything
that doesn’t look like sunshine
you are moonlight, waxen frowns, muddied shoes
the tremors in my toes

where are you in the mountains?
come back, come home.

I think these bleach scrubbed walls
will hold the memory of how
I have always longed to look you in the eyes
and wished for something more
this place will always make my heart leap
it has been a year and all I can think about is
how much I have waited on a boy so beautiful
every time I look at him I feel something in my chest give way.

This is the tragedy of falling in love
a whirlpool of desolation
and an abysmal sadness
somewhere in the mountains
you think you hear someone calling out your name
It’s me, I’m here
and this story will end when you come home.