i never when home
i never packed that bag that I thought you owned
but always kept a key
I put it in my house with my new family
tell me what you need
what's the time there?
is it two or three?
i was only 18
new phone number
new id

how much longer
until im like my father
black truck
pick up
just enough
new ink
turquoise sink
wash myself clean
and wonder
how much longer
till I'm like my father
cross the boarder
I feel I'm older
black truck
pick up
just enough

you got it good
get away weekend
cross country mission
you got the warm heat
a big jacket with big shoulders
you dress it down
you consider parts less worn in
you got it good
a friend as a lover
saying all the right things
going another day
solving the song
surrendering to solitude
you listen to molly neilson and it feels true
swallowing things whole
remembering how it started
you got it good

shallow bowl
half of a whole
peering into my peers
carving a small hole
silk
sweat
salt
small
skin
shapes
song
swinging between two sides
one that's friendship
one that's at the bottom of the bowl
I've known you for a while now
but you haven't always smelt this way
I met you when it was only sweat
met/melt
met/melt
met/melt
met/melt

in a heat of yellown and brown
I damp everything quickly
so all holds moisture overnight
I smudge my hands
making the oil even all over
and I start to run
run fast to my home
to clean for people I love and people I don't know
I'm so happy I could cry right here on this metro bench
does it matter the things we said that day?
does it matter the things we will say on another?
I feel alive now and I'm excited to see people smile in my kitchen
I love it when she comes into my room when we are unwell
I might never be able to tell her in the right way
composing a language from all of my pasts and all of hers
they may not translate
but if I can feel the love I have for her in the eyes of a stranger
I know my time with her has been a free fall
down a path where we are living in our souls pocket
writing love letters and hate letters
in our head like its an occupation
spilling them out on our white tile floor
moping and only spreading things around more
at least its even all over
at least its both of ours

coming home is an inhale
with certainty
coming home is a familiar twist
crying in my mother's bed
making coffee too strong
my favorite mug is all of them
coming home is feeling
how much I've changed
and knowing how much I once understood
coming home is an exhale of gratitude

I'll be away for a month
am I selling the American Dream?
toes turn outwards
we don't walk here
I now have a big truck
for my big things
on big days
am I wrong for what I believe is right?
I don't think your English is bad
and I don't like how we are speaking in my mother tongue
I lay on the hood of my ******* truck
selling the American Dream


Desire is a pain
but longing is a tool in a world where
the mundane is a temporary pattern

He wears the sun as a cloak that drags in
uneven ways down thin roads
I moved my finger over what was once
chiseled and now soft