JAC 13h

Do not
steal kisses.
Ask for them,

  15h JAC

fresh air,
and I
forgotten I
had not been
breathing well.

breathes the sunset
back into
and suddenly
things are vivid once again

is the cold
when the sun
and I
have fought until the night.

never thought
that one person could
make the stars seem trivial,
but now I know,
even the stars
wonder about

Our  Thousand-Mile collection is getting full!
Another poem with JAC! His are italicized!
JAC 15h

The sea has a way of forgiving
without apologizing for anything.
She swims far from humanity
yet she invites us in,
she pulls at our sands
and it lulls us to relief
while offering sustenance
and cold, sweet belief -
but when she wants us out,
she throws us like ships,
pieces of a hard-lost board game,
and if we try to resist her,
she takes us in,
and she apologizes,
but does not forgive us.

For my darling, the sea.

Could this be
the very sea
that carries me
from poem to poem?
JAC 1d

living vicariously
through your own reflection.

JAC 2d

In the mornings,
there may still
be a light fog
on the water.

A continuation of "The Sea and the Clouds",
because everything is but one part of a whole.
JAC 3d

Eyes open
                             Mild panic
                   Look around
(Quiet)      ­      
Glow-in-the-dark stars                                  
                                      None to speak of
                        ­   (Quiet)
Roll out of bed              
                                           Careful not to wake you
Locate shirt                  
        Pull on jeans
Still dark            
     You like dark
  ­             Phone
                Hand on door
       Still asleep
Paper from your notebook                        
                                  Pen from nightstand
Calligraphy pen
           Didn't know that
                  You wrote down a dream last night
                                       "Dreamed I was safe, happy, in love"
Says sleepy cursive                                      
Write below                    
                       "So did I"
Back to door          
                      Don't look back
Don't look back                
              Don't look back
                                   Look back
(Quiet)        ­
            Open door
           ­  (Quiet)
                          Through your hall
Messy kitchen        
Don't remember seeing this                                      
                 Must have been dark
Shoes must have been kicked off
                                                     Found them
                                       Close front door
                   Still dark outside
(Quiet)                          ­  
Too early for train                          
                   Too far to walk
Smile guiltily        

Essentially a continuation of the previous poem,
"An Appalling Lack of Glow-in-the-Dark Stars".
JAC 4d

It was suddenly twenty-eight minutes
                 after three in the morning,
and I found myself in your bedroom.
     Your sheets were cheap and creased,
                     your quilt was older than you,
                   and your pillow cases didn't match.
There were three pillows, and you had all of them.
                                                                ­       I didn't mind.

Your breathing was the steadiest thing in your life right now,
              and your back rose and fell
                          as regularly as your hopes did in the daytime.

                    There was nothing on your back -
           whatever was there
an indefinite number of hours previously
     had joined the convention of disorganized stress on the floor
              that slept a mere seven and a half inches from us.

                      The mattress was as warm as we were,
           and the whole of it held tightly to the scratched hardwood floor
that was probably still owned by those that lived here before you.

                                                           There was an appalling lack
                                            of glow-in-the-dark stars
                              on your dull, cracked ceiling.

A cut-up excerpt from what will soon be a long story
about growth, uncertainty and lives we never expect to be a part of.
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