it's rainy cold days like this when
i don't want to write at all i'd rather
sit on the porch as it comes down in curtains
& rushes through the downspouts onto
crickets squeaking happily & watch the
gigantic fox squirrel that's nearly as old as me
bounce dutifully across the yard

i tell myself i was never in jr high
humidity-caked-on-makeup never turned me on
& i wasn't remotely curious about sweater mountains
i convince myself that i do my best stuff
when the sun is shining anyway
or the stars are falling from the black sky
beside the esoteric but flavorful moon
& i'd rather get coffee-drunk & giggle at cartoons
watch the world jitter through emblazoned pink eyelids
or ******* to a time-lapse video of a dazzling
white tulip stretching up toward the sun
when i have the gypsy cave to myself

but i bust out the pen & crack knuckles
or pull up a pristine word document
& scar it anyway as the rain drops down to a drizzle
still kicking down the puffs of dust & lime-rock
that usually flutter around & wait for
the internal river of thought to overflow or
crumble thru the dam of my mouth & i shout
like a neurotic with savage zest &
thunder pulsing thru his veins

i don't want to merely know it
i want to feel it

come & find me
i've left my phone plugged
into the wall because i can't feel
you breathe through your fingertips
and i can't read your lips through emoji
your belly-button doesn't look right shrouded
in 8 mega-pixel dust and i want to touch you instead
of a keyboard on a screen and tell you about my day because
even though it's written doesn't mean it's real meet me offline because
i don't want a five second snapchat victory snapshot of your *****-line
i don't want my silly romantic poetry to be re-grammed on your insta
framed against a picturesque city skyline or a stoic mountain lion
with hashtags and sexting doesn't turn me on like the sound of
your voice i can write you letters until my fingers bleed but
they always arrive seven days late and you never cry
when you cut them open with a knife and i'm not
looking for a pen pal anyway or a friend
instead i seek a mirror with glowing
teeth or an outlet to plug
into and charge
me up

sunrise
i'm stumbling thru a salt fog
out on the coast in a campground
with two tiny squares of paper stained
on my tongue looking for a patch of dry yellow
withered grass in the tall dunes to lay down in for a while
until the pressure of tears subsides or overcomes the corners
of my eyes & temples

i'll spend the day tight-chested
under the sinewy arms of a magnolia
tree with teeth clenched against hiccups
& clear snot running freely out of my nose
down my chin as green tea waves lick my twinkling
toenails with an open-throated warble & beads of sweat
collect in the hollows of my skinny knees & race down to my
vulnerable achilles

i'll be eaten alive by bloodthirsty
beach fleas after the sun burns off the fog
& i'll ride the high salt wave with the melodies
of sunrise birds like a sikh on a psychedelic print
karastan rug with hair to my shoulders & dirt on my
knees while the beer-hall bellows of tree frogs echo over
my stretched earlobes

sure i'll watch the girl weaving
thru the shimmering florida heat wave with
hypnotic green eyes & long legs that disappear
briefly into thin white cotton shorts & then emerge
again at the endless curve of the hipbone peach creme
neck adorned by a single shining jewel riding a thin rose
gold coiled rope

while i'm listening to
willie nelson & struggling to hold
back tears she waves i wave back in
the reflexive naked itch to be a gentleman
she slips thru the dunes with fluid grace & sits
down with hair smelling like orange blossoms &
begins to hum-sing like a pink finch in champagne
& i finally give in to the impulse to cry

when i do she holds me
with about an hour before the sun sets
where the shoreline doubles back on itself
we watch as the dolphins catch rides through
the breakers on the last yellow shafts of sunlight
before the cool night air closes on us like a fist around
an azure plastic doorknob

the ocean bit the sun &
as her lips found my butterscotch
cheeks & the trees sizzled behind us
the stars swarmed like a bright cloud of
bees overhead we danced in swirls of wood
smoke whispering secrets to the campfire & her
******* stiffened when my tongue touched her belly
& the flying embers whistled

tonight
we'll sleep together in a blanket
tangle of sweat soaked beach towels
like two organic granola humans fighting
to stay children forever & when i press the plump
button of her ******* she sinks deep into my chest like
it's upholstered in expensive leather & twitches like a moth
seduced by the glow of a kerosene lamp

when we wake up
wet & stuck together before dawn
she kisses my tumid lips with her eyelashes
& pokes holes in my morning breath with her tongue
she dresses in a golden chrysanthemum gown & asks me
to zip it up over her powder pale shoulder-blades so she can
escape across the crunchy wildfire fodder & wet pavement to dance
& kick in the frothy white surf opposite the dunes as the first waves
of heat bounce like vectors in a microwave oven but i am much
more comfortable here folded up tight like a lawn chair in a
hurricane in an alternate world where my heart hasn't
been reduced to the floor pedal of your mother's
foot powered sewing machine in the
forgotten attic an alternate world
in which my name became
more than a delicate
vocabulary flicked
from your
tongue

i want to brush your hair in bed
i want to kiss your ears until you fall asleep in my arms
i want to make plans to conquer the world with you
i want to get lost in the immense galaxy behind your eyes

i want your toes to be buried
in the small of my back on cold mornings

i want your mouth to be the one that nibbles
my fingers when we're holding hands in public

i want to lounge with you on top of me
inside a sunbeam and read the same book together

i want you to give me those torturous
hold me down crying tickles i claim to hate

i want your thighs to jiggle when you
sing and dance in the hallway

i want you to know that i'll die without your
quick good-morning bad breath kiss

i want to tumble and tell secrets with you
on fresh warm sheets

i want to be the wall you throw your
anger at after a long frustrating day

i want to flail with you
against every imaginable current

i want to listen to your heartbeat
with the soft pink stethoscope of my lips

i want it to be your fingernails that leave
my back red striped and scarred for days

i want to be the pillow made of flesh you scream
and fall into with exhausted tears on your cheeks
when the world turns its back on you

i want to hear the music your belly and throat make
when you laugh in the kitchen and it echoes
through the house late on a quiet night

i want to be the one that calls you back
immediately after you hang up on me because
we're just not communicating right

i want you to hold me like an alcoholic
grips a bottle and rock me in the dark while
i drown my pain on the swell of your chest

i want to be your siamese twin connected
at the earlobes creating cloud animals in
a soft green velvet summer field

i want to own the shirt you wear on sunday mornings

but more than anything
i want to be beside you
when you climb that
******* mountain