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david badgerow Oct 2015
i have been telling this story for years
most people think it's a made up joke
but let me show you the high relief
fingernail scars on my ******* and
back let me take you
back to the basement made of music
back to the beat of the drums
back to the bumping grinding and *******
back to the girl i fingered on the field trip bus when we were 14
jesus christ i'm sorry okay we were only kids then
playing an obsessive tug of war game with
her wrists weighing my handlebar collarbones down
while exhaust fumes belched warm through the floorboards
her ankles wrapped sinuously around my ankles
the sun peeling through the windows like a nectarine
she straddled her first white stallion ******
buzzing like a wind up toy on my teenage knuckles
two years later in high school she was my tutor but
we learned more about *** than computer science
she showed up ***** in a corset get up
to my best friend's halloween party
where i was dead set on getting hammered
she set me on fire with her feral hair
and her feline eyes begged to become the nail
i was drawn to her like a planet being pulled
into the orbit of a red dwarf star and after she
danced the boogaloo with her hips
sequestering my glittered face
i became a deep sea diver on the dancefloor
facemask and snorkelĀ full of sweetmeats and sap
her thighs covered in salty drool and
shrieks cutting through the *** cloud atmosphere
building into a honking goosey crescendo
we took a steamy cold shower together afterward
and i really saw god's big face when
her eyelashes licked the fog off the bathroom mirror
and she proved to be a balloon knot artist
with grape sized ******* and a soda straw
tongue like a butterfly imagine me squealing on tiptoes
in the bathtub clawing toward the shower mouth overhead
with her laughing underneath creating a complex layer
of parrot echo-thunder tapping my lowest vertebrae
internally in a sophisticated cole porter rhythm
i've slept trembling crooked on the bed ever since
with beads of sweat arranged on my upper lip
remembering the gleam of the baby oil bottle standing
proud in the corner of the shower receiving window starlight
and waking up with smears of wet lipstick embedded
in the secret tender spots of my body and the leftover
sound of her fingernails raking through
the stubble on my sensitive cheeks

she finally told me her secret flippantly
the night before i went to jail
in the safe shadow of
soft candle flame snuggery

oh just pure mdma and ******* sprinkled on my tongue
david badgerow Oct 2015
i'll let you be recluse & writer
you can describe how strange horrible
it feels to suddenly realize that one of us will someday die
the other left standing in the dark middle of a railroad
silhouette illuminated by a single streetlamp
mouth open with a granite rock wobbling in hand

i pray that it's me who falls first
after our parents so they won't have to bury a child
& you my only brother can remove my name from
the lyrics of every song you wrote for me

i can't give you the words to write
but find them & add them to your own memories
of me on a spring afternoon standing in shorts
on a softball field or rooftop with
hands on my knees & two wisps of hair in my face like
moths orbiting shafts of remembered yellow light

stick out your tongue & i'll teach you to whistle
without your fingers if you teach me to scowl & squirm
**** with my armpit & spit melon seeds at lowing cows
we'll dangle from plebian treebranches upside down together
& when i fall off the monkey bars you laugh
but when you're on your head in a heap of kinetic energy
i pick you up & brush ***** tear spirals off your chin

i'll drift away first into sleepland with a smile plastered on my
strawberry cheeks squirming legs & my body
coiled tight like a bedspring with laughter stomach cramps
from the stories & jokes you whisper on the floor in the half-lit gloom

i will be your darling sister forever lying to mom
about the time you burned a hole in the linoleum
& you will throw rocks at the back of my head
from a young persimmon tree like a noisy bird gargling bug juice
pretending to skip them across a pristine lake in the
blue grayness of the churchyard before dawn
david badgerow Oct 2015
i am the man that you don't need anymore
just another thing you left behind
in an empty house
i'm still feeling vulnerable
like the forgotten iron with the burnt
face frazzled cord
& i still crave the precious gem
of your soul miserably
because i am a fool
or a hummingbird addicted
to sugar water icicles

i wanted to know where you came from
because my heart wanted to sing to you
like a nervous chickadee
through the bubbly white noise
& champagne static
of the bar where we first met

i wanted to know what you see when you look up
through the state of grace that you live in
if it's only the sun
or 40,000 angels buried
in dust & clouds
so i could write it down
or paint it on a stretched tight canvas
& show you my work

i still want to know where you run to
when the rain comes down
in sheets & your hair
kisses dark streaks
onto your cotton shirt

the moon stays up late to show me
how far down i am in the galaxy
of freckles dusted across your shoulders
your hair is a fiery tangle of comet tails
escaping in knots from my wet fingers
your body is a mystical
collection of dark matter
screaming blue eyes &
all i ever wanted was
to be destroyed by the
cyanide on your lips

i filled the bathtub with purple swan orchids &
sprawled out on the opulent karastan rug
like a lame duck waiting on a lilypad
for your footsteps & fingers to astonish me with
dizzy incandescence
david badgerow Oct 2015
this time something feels different

this time i'm an angry toucan spitting eager saliva & i want you to rip my plastic beak off & whisper secrets into my slippery face

this time i'm an open book & i want you to place your fingertips on my soft worn pages & read me between the lines forever

i want you to be a magnifying glass mirror to show me my inconsistencies made of stretched wool fibers and hemp and wood held together by shiny clots of ink oil and glue

this time i'm an open door numb with apprehension & i want you to surge into the threshold of my bare bones like a molecular flash flood burglary polishing my darkest stained corners with spiraling velocity

this time i'm an oak sapling planted in your backyard spinning & dazzling in the sunlight & i want you to water me daily so i can grow
with you to unbelievable heights & suddenly sprout flowers from my sinewy arms

this time i'm a babbling brook cascading over slick brown rocks on a lush hillside & i want you to stir the moon like the wind & listen appreciate my serene grace

because this time i need someone whose lips
can be a tissue to the tears on my soft cheeks
before they turn cold & calloused

i need someone to sink their teeth into my
shoulders & collarbone to wake me
from this superfluous daydream

i need someone who beds naturally
into the ribcage nest of my plaid flannel shirt

i need someone who will dance with me
across an empty landscape into
something bigger & deeper
than just the starless sky above us

i need someone who wants to learn
the overlapping language of my eyes & hands

someone who will lounge with me
like an odalisque on the birth-bed of aphrodite
drenched in the shivers of the moon canopy

someone who can blur the lines
between my cerebrum & theirs
so that we become a stitched together
quilt of soft memories in our imagination

someone who has been in a trainwreck before
& knows precisely where to kiss
to make it all better
david badgerow Oct 2015
my eyes opened to find
the thin lizard dawn gleaming
after the gutter drank its' fill
of the moon last night
the tambourine
buried in my lungs still
vibrating like these walls
papered with cheap roses

last night i found comfort the
only way i know how
in situations like this
beside a girl wearing
a pretty ribbon
twisted around her waist
pomegranate lipstick
wet clay & tragic glitter
smeared across her eyelids

we spent the night
roped together by
half-removed clothing
& my fingers third
knuckle deep
counting the pulse
of the heart
of the universe

while the wild fox
barked on the hill outside
& the mockingbirds
played riffs in the lilac bushes
her ******* ran tight
around her shins &
she sputtered the dark
lyricism of bees
twisting her tongue
backwards around
itself in my ear

our bare bellies
slapped together as
my tongue found her
tooth enamel &
the trees formed
a tight center loop to
harness the sky
for us & i
held my breath
waiting for her
to breathe first

i can feel her chest
& plump **** now
quietly throbbing
against the tight young
flesh of my back but when
i roll over & see her
eyes darting
green like a thin
ocean laser avoiding
my dynamic gaze &
her pouty mouth emitting
a pink yawn i can tell
she's unhappy & ashamed
of me

i tried to run
my fingers through
the butterscotch tumbleweed
of her hair but she just
popped her gum
& sent me
high stepping through
the soft warm mud
& chest high cattails
of her driveway
callow under the clouds
stuck like gnats to
the fly paper sky
david badgerow Aug 2015
if i was a mystic
if i had strong magic
if i were born inside a star
& you weren't already
my older sister's best friend
i would trap time forever
inside the hourglass of
your green-eyed memory
holding a skinny ultra can
shoulders deep brown from
catching two sunsets in a row
standing chest deep in
a clear water river
with the ***** bottle coozy
& your torn-up shorts rolled
halfway down

i was a six-foot-something anxious baby with
wavy blond hair and blue eyes when
you gave me a triumphant pinch inside my ribcage
under the table at dinner one night
my chest still tremors when i remember &
when the brave sunlight touched my knees
& bony nose after a long night with you
paralyzed for ten hours tangled
nestled so tight together
the nerves in my fingertips
& eyelids went numb
like waking up in the middle of a first kiss

i remember our
fun-drunk voices echoing flatly
off the popcorn ceiling of your apartment
when you giggled & told me
i'm better than all the ballcap guys
in all the dusty saloons you've tried
sloshing free ones across the bar at you
or bouncing their farmer's tans against you
& off of you on the wooden dance floor
i grabbed your waist tight & whispered
you're better than all the girls in
all the hash houses & hookah bars i've seen
absentmindedly holding a ukulele on their hips
smoking & yelling over the boys swarming around them

i want to catch every warm
slow second of the sun or your lips on mine
i want to taste the dawn &
your sweet skin fresh like rain
i want to smell the dew being burned
off the st augustine grass outside
& when my forehead glows sharp
like feverish red sunlight
you will press whatever part
of you is coolest there &
all the muscles of my body will
relax & sing to you

it was dawn when you
mounted me for the third time
wearing $600 cowboy boots & nothing else
except the red lipstick you found
under your messy bed
naturally you practiced
spurring me with the heels
& hollering like a wild bird in the
big open fields of america
as the colors bled through & into
my forced closed eyelids
turning them pink like
the inside of a curved seashell
or the curtains of your bedroom
your daughter came in
rubbing her eyes with tiny fists
& a healthy smile her cheeks
rosy with warm sleep & sunshine kisses
you dismounted quickly & swung
a shirt over your shoulders

i stand stretch to yawn & scratch my chest
as you both run away screaming
about sausages & pancakes
i'm left there feeling like a heart transplant
you swore we'd never stop dancing
& there you are sure enough
boot-scootin' around the kitchen
in just my workshirt & your lace *******
checking the cabinets for champagne
to sift over the last bit
of florida's natural o-jay

but you really are
my older sister's best friend
so i should just forget it because
you like to scoff at me
& make half-jokes
that you have terrible taste in men
or i couldn't afford
you anyway
david badgerow Aug 2015
if it were left up to me
this whole poem could be worshiping
the shiny puddle of silver light the stars stained
onto your heaving collarbone when
we made love & connected souls first
under the third eye pyramid tapestry then
on a rough bed of flat canyon orange dirt
in summertime georgia

but it's not & can't ever be
because people don't know you
like i do for example they aren't aware
that you dance with a summer breeze
like the lighthearted yellow butterfly
i can never catch in a net or
that you're the reason
i became a writer to begin with

they probably aren't prone
to remember the october morning
you found me huddled just before dawn
in a half-lit safeway parking lot
burning my clothes & yellow wooden pencils for fuel
chewing the pink bubblegum erasers or when
you said i have a beautiful pristine voice &
i melted giddy into your wet violet
hair as the wind whipped it
i was around nine & in the third grade
so i sat patiently crosslegged & camouflaged
a lizard with my tongue out savoring
that moment like an unexpected
rainshower in the pre-puberty desert
listening to the rhythms of your salty blood
pump waves of breath out of your lungs

& they still don't know about
later on when i was walking home
shoulder bones barreled against the long fog
you picked me up again in the
immaculate rust wagon your brother left the keys in
you bought me firewood at a gas station got me
happy drunk on hot kisses & so paranoid ******
listening to thin lizzy on tape in your garage
you laughed hyena hard
when i asked you to marry me
that starless purple night on your daddy's farm
& so did he but he never really said no
& neither did your eyes they just glistened
like they were floating in olive oil as
you ascended the stairs to your bedroom alone
covered in magic enormous light
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