I had a not so secret crush on a girl two years my senior.
I made a be-line straight to study hall to sit at her table.
When she graduated, I asked if I could write in her year book.
She sweetly but somewhat reluctantly handed it to me.
I wrote her a special love sonnet (of sort) in the very back of her year book.

When I returned her book the next day,
I looked her in the eyes, smiled and wished her the best.
Trying not to choke on my words and not wanting to show a tear.
I quickly and graciously made my exit.

Two years later, she showed up at my graduation.
She appeared from behind me and called me by name.
I turned to see her always beautiful smile and sparkling eyes.
Taller and more beautiful than I remembered.

Her sudden & unexpected appearance stunned me!
My reaction in turn, appeared to have disturbed her!
Her smile faded, then she wished me well and made a swift but graceful exit.
We never saw or spoke again!

I wish my actions had been much more delightful.
I was a nervous young man and lacked confidence in the presents of such beauty.
Still true to this day! I sometimes wonder how and where my high school crush is doing.
Just fine, I imagine.

You Frenchman
You explorer
You harbor courage I could only dream of having
There is something burning inside of you that people around you wish for.
I’ve never met someone so in tune with the truth
So coherent with what the world is saying.
So present
You don’t believe in God
But you believe in this world.
You left because you wanted more
You came back because more was your origin
Life hands you lemons and you make something new.
You dream something big.
You transcend labels
I saw kindness in you first.
Kindergarten you let me in your club
I’ve remembered that ever since.
I remember that each day so I can find happiness in small places.
In kind words and strangers’ smiles.
Your curiosity is insatiable
You ask questions hourly so you don’t have room to stop growing.
You don’t have room to stop thinking.
You don’t have room to stop dreaming.
You believe in more than we can understand.
Your mind is extraterrestrial.
It is not well-known to think outside of yourself.
But you do.
You’re name means door keeper
It fits because you welcome others so humbly.
I could spend a day in your mind and still never fully understand you.
But that’s okay, because I’m not supposed to.
Thirteen years has taught me nothing.
Another thirteen won’t do.

you want to pretend that

these red-ink scratches are your kisses,

pressed into paper with your sweet perfume,

sealed with a wish.

— dearly beloved —

you used to call me something sweet,

falling like summer rain, and

pink glass buttons and butterfly wishes

and dreams could come true.



but rain falls to mud and letters are

trampled in the gutter, trash

my words, trash

you knew you'd be heard behind your whisky veil;

artillery doors don't hide secrets.

when the glass broke harlot-red lipstick

stained the rim, whisky ran through wax

and her skirts flew with her to the back room

to meet with her next little boy.

god, you were such a fool for  

breathy promises and clever fingers slipping through silk.

god, I was so stupid for you.



and now

you want to pretend your kisses are mine

that you can scratch x's in a row

to make me smile.

and I could scream and cuss and carve you a letter with knives

or I could turn a blinded eye

and cry.

Sitting in a hammock, facing the sky
Looking at the trees and watching birds fly
Wondering what I’m doing here.
But it doesn’t really help to ask why.

Fire in the day and fire at night
Getting drunk while the vervet monkeys fight.
We sit telling stories of old girlfriends
And how we were always right.

Bundled in our sweats, chilled by the cold
On these African nights with their icy hold.
Content and warm, I can’t help but shiver
From memories of old.

Breathing deeply beneath the sea
Moving around with the greatest of ease
Behold this amazing unnatural world
As natural as can be.

She laughs a sweet laugh as I turn around
Calling her name, I follow the sound.
And as my eyes land on the fire
She’s nowhere to be found.

Follow the elephants and the noise they make
As they thunder across the land we take
And when you gaze into their eyes
Your soul will snap awake.

We are just footprints in the sand
Barely an impression to the world at hand.
Where years of toil yield a half-inch of soil
In this unforgiving land.

And since the sand will wash away
There’s still an awful lot to say.
Another instant, the world moves on
Into another day.

And as I rest between these trees
Thinking of her, and home, and the seas,
Sputtering, gasping, the fire goes out
So now we all will freeze.

Now a days
We come up in my mind a lot.
Maybe it's because of the time we spend together.
Maybe it's the fun we have.
Maybe it's the worry that I'll wake up and realize it's all a dream.

But this minute this moment is all I want.

It's a strange feeling realizing you were never in my life.
That once upon a time, I never fell asleep in your arms.
Never laughed at your jokes until I cried.
Never took care of you, running errands for you.
Never made you smile, or your eyes twinkle.

Sometimes it still feels unreal.

That I finally found you.
Even when our paths had crossed...
Me thinking you were loud and obnoxious.
You driving past my childhood home regularly.
Neither of us thinking about the other.

That we are this comfortable with one another.
Me feet away, reading
You finishing work you procrastinated earlier.
Not saying a word for hours.
There is no anxiety
No She's not talking, she doesn't love me anymore.
No He's not holding me, is it the way I look?

It all seems unreal until you hold me.
Until I see your gentle face
See your mouth move to speak
Hear your words.
Then all is grounded.
Then I know.
None of this is unreal. This is our life. Our reality.

I like to dream.
Everyone does though I suppose.
I don't dream in the sense that you'd probably think.
Not when I sleep.
Lord knows I do enough of that,
but I'm incapable of dreaming at night,
I think that's why I sleep so much.
Each time I lay down I pray that,
Just one single,
lonely dream will come.
It doesn't though.
I keep trying though,
day after day,
and I promise I'm not just giving an excuse for me taking so many naps.
Although I do,
I'll admit that.
But since I don't dream when sleep,
I settle for dreaming when I'm awake,
some call it daydreaming.
I make up these situations in my mind,
where I'm happy beyond belief.
I imagine that I'm in an empty field,
running free.
I imagine I'm up in space,
with the stars.
A place that I've admired for so long,
I imagine I'm there.
Far away from this place,
and the hurt that exists here.
I'm not going to say I hate my life,
because that would be a lie.
I'm simply going to say that I'm not satisfied with my life.
There are so many places I'd rather be than down here,
with gravity pinning me to this
seemingly two dimensional place.
I imagine sitting and conversing,
with all of my idols.
Smoking a joint with Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix,
sitting down to tea with Cass Elliot and John Lennon.
Imagining what it would be like,
to be extraordinary like them.
Then I come back to the present,
as my teacher wraps up his lecture,
and remember where I am.
Then,
I once again accept that fact that I'll have to keep leading this ordinary life,
hoping for the chance one day to escape,
to the stars,
or maybe the moon,
the place that doesn't
hold me down,
and make me keep my feet on the ground.
The place where I can fly,
and dance,
and love,
and sing,
and dream.
Endlessly.

Guilt

The worst feeling in the world.
It slowly eats away at my mind
Until that’s all I have left.
The guilt.

The hardest part about
dealing with it is I know
it’s something I’ve caused.
The difference between
feeling and being.

It’s my fault.
I could have prevented it.
But it’s too late now.
All that’s left are what ifs.

What if I would’ve thought before I said that?
What if I let you make your own decision?
What if I wasn’t here?
What if I would’ve answered that phone call?
What if I really do have a choice?

I wouldn’t have hurt so many people.
You wouldn’t be filled with guilt.
You wouldn’t want to die.
I would’ve been able to say goodbye.
Maybe I caused all of this.

I can't fool myself.
Not again.
It's all true.
Every part of it.
I need to man up
and face my jury.

On the counts of
being an *******
being too domineering
being a mistake and a reminder
being selfish
and being what you never wanted me to be

I'm guilty.

I'm not sure how to start this. So why not jump in head first.
You're sand paper. Abrasive, coarse, and unpleasant against skin.
I'm not stating that you have no use, or no one needs you.
Really, though who would run into arms that were tough and rough
And protective only of the things inside it's own body.
Protective of it's emotions, it's feelings, things that it can't let other people see.
Not allowing anyone to get too **** close.
Out of fear.
Who would want to live life like this?
Pretending that people need you for everything.
In truth, they don't need you.
How could they? You wouldn't let them get close enough to bond with you.
To be your hydrogen.
To give you life through fellowship.
How can you boast of everything you claim to be when no one else sees it.
I can't understand how you do anything, how you don't see it.
How you can't see what we see.

And then there's you. Not much different than the first.
Rather than sandpaper, you're opaque glass.
The kind they use in offices, to conceal.
You're door is made of oak, smooth and welcoming at first.
Then someone opens the door, to all your lies and false smiles
Dripping at the teeth with blood.
Your shield however is not one of everyone needing you,
It is not needing anyone.
Or as you say.
You depend on those that gave you life in all you do.
You don't work for anything you have, but have more than any of us.
You cry when you don't get exactly what you want.
Be happy that you breathe.
Be happy someone doesn't end that.
You give them great reason to.