I don't remember, any more,
The exact shape of your hands
As I held them in mine,
Caressed them,
Memorized the length of your fingers,
The depth of your calluses.

I don't remember, any more,
Exactly your height, how much
Taller than me
You were, where
My head rested on your chest
When you held me tightly close.

I don't remember, any more,
Your scent, when we lay together
Creating our own
Magic rhythm,
Matching our heartbeats as we
Touched the sky, together.

I don't remember, any more,
The sound of your voice, calling
My name as though
It were a song
Within itself, a precious treasure
You valued with all your being.

And I don't remember, any more,
The color of your eyes, the shape
Of your lips,
Only...
How your eyes crinkled at the corners
And your laugh, as you told me,

"I love you."

I miss my home,
I scream for it at the top of my lungs,
But the wind merely blows the sound further East.
I don’t belong in this new place,
I don’t fit in.
I wish I could click my heels and be back in Kansas.
I miss my home.

I do not want to rise to my feet.
But there’s no snooze button on a child.
Rise. Shine. Sleep. Repeat.

This place is a ******* mess.
I tidy up while she watches Dora explore;
I do not like being on my feet.

I brew four cups of Maxwell House
and check the mirror to make sure I look alive.
Rise. Shine? Sleep. Repeat.

Into the car and off to the sitter’s.
She and I dance to pop songs on the radio.
Upon the car’s pedals, I tap my feet.

I drop her off and drive to work where
I drop off hot plates to hungry guests.
Rise. Shine. Sleep. Repeat.

I pick her up, go home, and cook dinner;
then bath time, bed time, homework.
Will I ever feel stable on my feet?
Rise. Shine. Sleep. Repeat.

I pick up the skirt,
I pick up the sparkling beads
in black,
this thing that moved once
around flesh,
and I call God a liar,
I say anything that moved
like that
or knew
my name
could never die
in the common verity of dying,
and I pick
up her lovely
dress,
all her loveliness gone,
and I speak to all the gods,
Jewish gods, Christ-gods,
chips of blinking things,
idols, pills, bread,
fathoms, risks,
knowledgeable surrender,
rats in the gravy of 2 gone quite mad
without a chance,
hummingbird knowledge, hummingbird chance,
I lean upon this,
I lean on all of this
and I know:
her dress upon my arm:
but
they will not
give her back to me.

when you're young
a pair of
female
high-heeled shoes
just sitting
alone
in the closet
can fire your
bones;
when you're old
it's just
a pair of shoes
without
anybody
in them
and
just as
well.

Two boys
and girls
unclothed each other
simply at a picnic
flush with wine
alongside
sun-flecked trees.

The girls,
easy as the
forest round,
burned,
delicious,
as the boys
eager and nervous
in unequal measure
partly gave up
concealing
their joys
at forgetting
or remembering
in flickers
their bare bodies.

It went on
over nettles
and half-hours
and clambered
trees and
photos taken
almost formally
(on film,
of course).

And boyish lust,
at first sinuous,
a darting tongue,
began to
soften against,
for instance,
the sheer,
unthinkable
texture
of the two
girls carved
now backward
over the bough
of a storm-felled elm.

And there
in the embers
of evening
they learned
to thrill originally
at the vast,
gorgeous
and astonishing
irrelevance
of what
might happen next.

I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.

There’s nothing to hold on to
out in the ocean.
There’s nothing to see
out in the ocean
but the ocean.
And all of the water in the ocean
can not quench your thirst.
And the miles of it
make escape futile.
It was only but a
matter of time before
I drowned.
But I saw the sunset
spread on the horizon and die like a flame
out in the ocean.
So if you are ever
out in the ocean,
wait until sunset.
It is like nothing
you have seen before.
There’s nothing to hold on to
out in the ocean.
There’s nothing to see
out in the ocean.
There I drowned,
out in the ocean.
But there I saw the sunset.
And let me make it very clear,
I would not trade that moment
for anything.
Oh, how I wish I could go back,
out in the ocean.

I want to be a good person
for you.
I want you to look at me
how I look at you
without feeling the pain.
When we finish a conversation
I want you to smile at me
and say
“We must do this again sometime”
And I want to do it again.
I want to leave and show up again
and hug you every time.
I want to look into your eyes
and not blink.
I think I love you.
True, it is possible you are
like all the rest, and that I will
forget you and move on.
It is possible, that I am just
going through the motion of loving you.
I don’t think so though.
I think you are special.
I think that when you smile,
G-d remembers why He loves the human race.
You are the most beautiful girl
I have ever seen,
You always will be.
If only this love was
without pain.
If only you could stay,
or maybe I could go with you.
I think we would be good together.
I think you make me
truly happy, and that I
can cheer you up too.
I want to spend a day
with you.
And talk.
About anything. Everything.
You are beautiful inside and out.
It kills me when you walk by.
I know you don’t look at me
like that. It’s okay though.
It’s just, well, I think
if you thought about it
you could see us together too.
You inspire me,
but you are unavailable to me,
So that inspiration only goes so far.
And not far enough.
I love you.
It hurts me.
I even met your family
and I think they’re great.
Why are you leaving?
I can’t believe this.
My parents like you too.
I know they would.
How can’t they. You’re perfect.
I’m trying to imagine
meeting someone I’d
be with, but I can’t.
Because of you.
Because of your kindness.
Your long lovely hair.
Your unimaginable smile.
Your wit and mind.
Your laugh and your humor.
It’s all beautiful.
Everything about you makes
me hurt when I don’t
tell you “I love you”.
But I know my place.
And that’s weird.
It’s not the time or place,
or maybe even the person,
but our friendship is good
and I wouldn’t trade it for
the world. Perhaps I
will tell you some day.
Perhaps.
You are so wondrous.
I apologize that my vocabulary
is small, and I can not
do justice to you.
Perhaps I will write a song,
maybe I can tell you like that.
But words come too fast
and have too much possibility
for miscommunication and error.
I love you.
So much.
I’m out of place.
That’s why I won’t say it.
So I’ll keep it on this paper.
If only things were different.
I swear it bugs the hell out of me
that things can’t be different.

I could kiss you,
but what's the point?

I could never push his kiss
from claimed territory.

I could hold you,
but it would only remove me.

You would cry into my shoulder,
talk about what he "used to do",
I'd be furniture.

A proper fool,
Wiping his tears from your eyes.
Listening, as you re-asked all the whys.

I could tell you I loved you,
but you'd simply say:

"I gave my love to another,
I think of him every ******* day."

I could give you my time or blood,
all of it would equal none.

You are my poison,
and I picked you.

You are my poison,
but I refuse to kiss you.