I'm always away I'm but never in bed
Never exhausted enough to be dead
Stuck at the edge of the breaths that I take
Nobody passes my way by mistake
I used to see what I purposely could
Stand at the grave like a tragedy would
When did my legs dig a hole in the ground
How do I sleep in the places I found
Tell me a story to summon my thoughts
Pull them apart and connect all the dots
Scribbles and phrases aren't easy read
Impossible only for those who deceive
Nothing is ever the truth when you hide
Pieces of fiction to which you subscribe
Finish the sentence and check what you wrote
Don't be afraid to let everything go

everything else confines a
space between eyes an
informant, i, capitulation
finally breaches the wounded
water. you facilitate this,
with only a small clue. i
didn't write conviction down
my arms for nothing. at
least i hope not, this hopelessly
dawning i, this reality in
which we gravitate. find
a path to your palm. a
visceral obeisance you
may find in my eyes. a
low hiss, my heart leaks
to make space for you,
oh darling anew, the
inside of my chest
is snowing.

drying my eyes with the crumpled plane tickets
that brought me here
as the new ones slowly print, inch by inch
and the ink dries upon my cheeks
and the time has been tattooed into my eyelids
ticking away, ticking closer and closer
to the end

closing my ears to the sound of cars
passing by on an open road
as the sound of wheels on concrete presses
into my memory and suddenly
i am in a taxi, speeding towards the last drop
of this city, and part of me is left behind
among the crashing water of spring
and the wood chips of an abandoned playground
and the puddles that we avoided as we ran
uncontrollably down the street
laughing

i am not laughing now, except to appear
alive as the boy who makes my coffee
makes me a joke too, free of charge
and i don’t want him or anyone to worry about me
so my mouth opens a crack, and my eyes fold inwards
and he smiles, placing my drink on the counter
and i burn my tongue trying to drown
that fake laugh

the tickets are done printing
the zipper has been forced
over the gaps between my fingers
where your hand should be
and the puzzle wavers as i pack it, but
the pieces stay together, at least until
i close the suitcase
and somehow, i am confident
that it will remain intact

i crumple the tickets in my hand
in an effort to make them look old
as if the summer had already passed
and i was on my way back to fill my empty palm
with warm skin, soft words and a hard press
of my mouth to the sound of something akin to home

i can feel the push and pull of two places
that have shaped me and are shaping me still
as my body curves around the ribs
and hips of a new kind of comfort
and the stiff seat in this airplane
reminds me that i am never as comfortable
as when i am with you

and i resign myself to sunny months
and warm music
and the discomfort of a puzzle
that is trying its hardest
to stay together

and i resign myself to dipping my toes in the water each night
pulling out the glue from between them
and keeping the pieces together
pressing my hand into the soft wood of the dock
in an effort to shut out the cold air

and i resign myself to the confidence i feel
knowing time will be on my side
when i need it to be

i throw the old tickets in the trash
and slip the new ones inside my passport
ready
to keep myself together

i am growing
older
still

(for i have
carried
on)

i want to be
allowed to
kiss the
tips of your
fingers and
trace your
collarbones
with my
tongue

i've been thinking about
how your favourite word
is ephemeral because
everything in your life
is so ******* fleeting

and i don't want to be
that way too

A grand moment when TacoBell opened in 1962
Great multitude of folks spent all day in the loo.