Over staffed and under fed
Spanish waiters
rush around with
waistcoats of wisdom
wearing black shoes
of sordid shift-work soles.

They greet and speak to every new
tourist, and regular, as if a
brother, sister, mother, second-cousin-twice-removed
stepmother, yet really they are:

the ephemeral fodder of the
cheap, low-cost-airline,

the flash and it’s gone spine of most cities
on the map,

the ‘Sorry, I left it in a Barcelona Café, could I get it back on insurance?’
baseball cap, that most sightseer marionettes wear, back to front,

the standing in line, waiting to complain,
tourists that know nothing of decorum.

So the Spanish waiter served me my coffee
and whispered in my ear,
‘Disfrutar de su día senor’,
that was,
'Enjoy your day Sir’.

What do I do?

With Beautiful skin,
Broken bones.

The beautiful skin, the lovely mask.
With the broken bones, the structures cracked.

Why can only you make me smile?
I need your love for just a little while.

Baby, please.
I'm breaking down.
I loved you once,
And you let me drown.

I am stuck.
Stuck with loving you.
No one compares.
Everyone is scared.

I love you.

Can't you
Love me too?

Homesick for you
Trembling too...
Just wishing that you were here
To shelter me
in your embrace
And dry away my tears

I know you're not gone
Just far away
I still think of you all the time
The war is over
The raging has ceased
But not all can be healed by time

I don't want you back
I now know that you
Simply are just not the one
But you're still in my dreams
I still reminisce
And the heart in my chest weighs a ton

I look at the stars
Admire their glow
They always made me think of you
I wonder over and over
Even though it is futile
If I ever cross your mind too

Sometimes I imagine
What it will be like
When I someday see you again
Will we share a smile?
Will you just pass me by?
Would you want to be friends?

I still love you D - - - - -
But I'm not in love
It may be for the best we're apart
But one thing I know
I'll never forget you
You're forever tattooed on my heart

salt water breath
i'm thinking about air or an heir or whatever you call it,
whatever you think i'm thinking cause i don't know how to explain this feeling
heart is aching and breaking as time goes on
freezing in the lack of ocean, fresh air, and sight of the milkyway
how my body craves the smell of salt and family,
the desire keeps me up at night with taunting dreams of gummy bears and the breeze,
never thought i'd say i'd miss a mode of transport that makes me physically ill,
red eye lids, and chapped lips pine for a better way to sleep due to the sick desire for some place a little rarer

Her name is Tiffany.

We met when

our orbits collided

                                  and crash landed,

on a wooden picnic table

                       in the dead of night.

I saw the world in her eyes—

and she had this spirit about her
       that made me want to follow
                her with an umbrella
                       the rest of my days
                             so she wouldn’t
                                    even be
                                      bothered
                                                by the rain.

I swore, I’d make her believe in                        h u m a n i t y.

Conversation, spit-balled from her lips like a machine gun

trigger stuck—

we tore through topics

                    like bullets tear through skin,

I tried my best to keep up.

We dead ended on the subject of children.
She grew silent, pale.

                      “I should be the mother of twins” she stammered.

I’ve been told I have quite the poker face, but in that moment

                                                                               I know she saw.

Turning her head as if to answer my unspoken question

“Miscarriage”
                        she breathed.

I spent the next however long soaking in her story, like a sponge.
I could tell,
                               she doesn’t do this often.

I have no respect for fathers who stain the honor of father
with a ******'s blood.

For boyfriends who can’t hear the word “No.”

over the sound of their
                                          d e s i r e.

These men painted her the color of smashed hymens.

On her wedding night,

she won’t forget.

She can’t give                                            what’s been stolen.

She finishes.
I exhale—breaking the silence first.

She looks at me, with all the innocence they must have stolen from her,

and i wonder

if she can

hear me

b r e a k


This, is the kind of story you read about.

I had no words to fix her— I couldn’t fix her.

All I knew was I wanted to sear my flesh and

m
   e
       l
         t

into the crevices of her broken self

and convince her

It will be okay.

“I swear, I’ll make you believe in
**h u m a n i t y.”

I’m in love with the memory of you.
We tap dance on the neural connections that connect my brain,
to my soul.
Tapity- tap- tap.
But only on those hot summer nights.

You kisses taste like moonshine
and your arms in mine, make music.
Tapity-tap-tap.

I fell for you where
brown eyes met blue.

Where
first date dinners
met
third date kisses.

Where camouflage and bullets
met
pearls and lipstick.

Where moon-lit dances
met
tear stained airports.

And where friendly fire, met you.

I got that tapity-tap-tap on my door,
I fell to the floor
and now here I am, tapity-tap-tapin’ my shoes
tryin’ to get back to you.

But death marches to its own beat,
tapity-tap-tap

If there is reincarnation,
I’m jealous other people get to
have you in their lives,
and I don’t anymore.

My heartbeat echoes, tapity…

tap…

…tap.

Tapity….

tap…

tap.

Tried to decipher
what this couple was
and who they were.

Husband and wife
on an anniversary night?

Girlfriend, boyfriend,
on a first date trend?

Paid woman of the evening,
drinking his cocktails, ignoring his ring?

Well here are the facts,
the things that matter:
she had red hair to match her skirt,
skin coloured boots
(the height of the lights)
that blended in,
smudged in with
her thin skin-tight tights.