We've been driving for hours
And I'm hypnotized
By the endless white dashes
Separating lanes:
Hi-Reflection government-grade paint.

They rush by
And they're innumerable, extending endlessly in both directions
Each of them someone I've met and forgotten.

I become distraught
Thinking about all of the missed opportunities ,
Wasted words.

You tell me it's all in my head;
I'm being ridiculous
But I can't take it anymore.

So we stop at a diner.
The warm rolls,
Coffee: burnt and bitter,
Big plate of greasy meat and fries
Restore me to my humanity
And remind me that we're all we've got.

Your eyes
Are red and swollen
But still they're spectacularly lucid.

Your gentle little moon-white hands tremble
And clutch at your knees.

Your sweet, soft voice shakes
As you tell me what you've needed to
And what you've carried far too long.

The words had been heavy stones in your quiet body
But they flow out freely from you as water from Christ's punctured side
Become almost nothing
Dissipate like smoke.

You're freed from your burden
And we hold each other and sing
I've got a feeling
It's gonna be all *right.

When you get home,
You won't help me in the kitchen.

So you walk into the living room
And I get an idea.
I call your name
And you come back in and see me there,
Shirtless, stirring cookie dough.

We end up on that putrid brown sofa
Your arms around my waist
You kiss me until my lips are raw, and...
After, we lay there with your arms around me
And you fall asleep, your breath heavy and slow.
You're dreaming now,
About that pretty girl from San Fransisco.

I roll over and it wakes you up
And we don't know what time it is
But I don't care if we're late
Because you're warm and you smell so sweet
And you kissed my forehead like you did the first time.

I know you wouldn't stop me if I tried to leave
And it kills me
But I'll always be here with you
Even though I know I should be with him
With his camel blues and his tight jeans and his argyle sweater.

He's perfect and
We both know it.
You're nothing and I love you.

Your visage
Is so refreshing
Like a long cool drink of sencha
With honey in it

On the last day of July
When the weather feels like Hell
And to hear your voice
Was what I needed most just then.

Hold me in your arms:
Long, slender, pale.

Brush your lips on mine:
Rosy, warm, gentle.

Kiss me hard, now:
Passionate, forceful, deliberate.

And in the rain, my hair curls
So you run your fingers through it
And I can't love you any more than I do now.

I've got my bare feet on the floor
And I'm running my toes through the high-pile plush
And it's making a noise like the ocean does
When it rolls over that pure white Key West sand
We laid on back when times were good.

We're listening to Fairport Convention
And you say something about Tam Lin
And I think about how you're like him:
Once I saw you as so noble, knightlike.

And now you've become this evil thing,
Stealing wealth and purity from high-class Christian girls
(Almost always blondes).

So I decide that when the faerie queen shows up
To pay her tithe to Satan
I'll break the clasp of my arms around your form
And abandon you to your well-deserved fate.

But then, grey elf,
Your dewy eyes catch mine
And in my weakness I know I'd hold you tight
In the face of Lucifer himself.

So I stay here with your fingers intertwined in mine
And our palms sweat in the heat of our stuffy living room(dying room?)
But we don't let go;
We wouldn't for anything in this world or Hell.

Trying to get through
This endless pile of papers,
I brew another *** of coffee,
Smoke another cigarette,
Think I might be dying (for good measure)
And close the door.

But all I can think about is you
Out there on the sofa
Under the yellow-and-white afghan
Shooting up and watching that old telenovela

So I give up.
And I grab us a couple of PBRs
And we lay there together,
Talking about your metaphysical journey.
I say something funny
And you go all red
And you hit me so hard
The wind all comes out of my chest.

I'm upstairs on the bed
Crying
And there's eyeliner down past my cheekbones.

And you come in
And you kiss my forehead
And I close my eyes
And I give in.

Waking up with your arm slung over my back
Incense on the table burning down to nothing
Like the remnants of my life,
I can't remember what made me love you.

You, my rough and rotten,
Are like coffee.
Coffee with skim milk in it, and sugar.

The anticipation is the best, the expected effects of your touch.
Then the heat. Too much.
After you're gone,
I wish you'd never been here. Such a sour aftertaste!

But later,
I stare into the bottom of my empty mug
Stained with the end of the morning's dregs
And look at my empty arms
And feel cold.

When the kettle screams,
I shrug.
Why *not?