i was hoping i'd say something
simple as a shy hello above the clouds
but it was dark and you were lost
in a book - red eye and wide awake
it was strange passing into a timezone
like blasting into the past

as the sun rose we descended
i glanced at you, to my surprise
my awkward tongue did not swell
and your lips turned to a polite curl
"we made it," you whisper
the clouds above us now and the skyline
below.

"we sure did," i whisper back. "high five."
you giggle, high five, i get my bag
from the luggage compartment
and vanished into the crowds
never to see the cute blondie in the zebra
skirt or her book again

you make me feel good
drunk on the beach type good
seamstress stitching stars
on my gypsy night canvas
I'll be on my way
be my treasure and my first
as awkward as I can be

I teeter totter
in my cowardice
ashamed in my shamelessness
forgive me
can't help but dance drunkenly
to my own beat
can't help but sink eyes
into your thighs

or so that song goes
listening to AFI on a walk
I keep crawling back
to catch your shadow
gangling at the window
your black face
and nose of pink
all awkward and scrunched
yet as I approached
you rub against my leg
and stretch in ecstasy
dry wild grass or powdered snow
shadowed forever
in my memory

letting loose old chains
you and your wry laughter
defeated by the day old machines
of life and their constant clogging

time's hands tear into spring
nail first, peeling off the light constricting canopy
twisting barbwire off delicate skin
strangling you on a couch from hell

wake up to the smell of bourbon
and dead roses - so pretty
your lashes creating the shadows
on your gaunt cheekbones, and your name is Soul

prophet tongue with
stabbing perceptions
i gave him my name
while in bed.

soft white curtains
though still chamber thick
cold steel hands
and the room sliced into pieces
by morning light
but haunted by night sounds
crept into open wounds of the heart

chills.

his hand
resting on my thigh while he snores
summer bruised and adventurous
though callous youth
with his unbandaged scabbed knee
skating last night.

moment forgotten in the carride
but a stone monument staring
at me on the kitchen counter.