I just like to think

That years

Years from this point

(Not to confused with

Years ago)

From now when my skin

Has come to change

And wrinkles around

My eyes

That I will have found

The girl I am meant

To love.

I will be content to know

That the love seeking time

(The time I take to worry

and tap my teeth

in nervousness)

Is over

And that’s just that.

I will have started something new with you.

Hundreds of homes sit
Cookie cutter produced

With manicured red rose bushes
And fences painted by immigrants

The suburban white breads
Flock to these copycat communities

Eager to fit in with their pale skinned
Blue eyes babies and mother-father pair

It’s all pleasant and just a bit
Creepy; the lack of contrast

How are we to manage happiness
With such tasteless lives?

-x-

I’d like to take a hammer
To these mass produced homes

And hack their roses to mush or
Kick their fences to splinters

To make a **** original piece
No matter how bizarre or damaged

So that our skin color, our ***, would be
The last thing to be seen as ‘weird’

Maybe then we’ll be content with the contrast
In a home that just breathes our presence

Even if we’re out and about; living
No part of us, even our home, will conform

To the standards of society

It’s as if I miss you
enough to put a hole

In the mid of my chest

I could do it myself
With a knife or a gun

But this aching I feel

Apparently it’s a
Natural reaction

Some ****** thing called love…

They had an affair
A summer romp
In the sticky warm nights

Secrets, some deep
And some random
Were whispered to the other

“I hate my body”
“My favorite color is pink”
Oh; the variety

Imagine one’s surprise
When the other turned up
Months after their fling

With twenty pounds lost
And her hair dyed
Cotton candy pink

It’s interesting how the
Shyer crowds manage
To communicate with each other

A silent eye conversation
Of pure flirtation
All the extroverts oblivious

A trail of fingers across warm skin
The teacher snaps at a popular pair playing footsie
And the two continue their game

The sneaky *******
Were never suspected, until!
One turned up with a love bruise

*Gasp!

Masculinity
From musky golden cologne
That lets me pretend

She kept all her emotions
Monitored by a rather
Peculiar body part
Her eyebrows

They were
The distinct way
She used to communicate
I learned to read her impeccably

A sudden shift; low drop
Of dark blonde brows
Was displeasure and
Soon brooding

A quirk
Or amused twitch
Meant she liked whatever
Ridiculous pickup line I’d used

Those golden ridges became my
Guide to a mystery
I always tried
To solve