I sat down in the shower
It was only a moment, but it felt like an hour
The rain poured down my back
My body was consumed by a panic attack
The water mixed in with the tears that I wept
Overwhelming me from all of the secrets I kept
My sobs a cacophony with the pitter patter of drops
Little black ink stains from my eyes turned to spots
Splattering onto my ankles and my pale clenching hands
I slowly drained away, no longer solid, just sand
A fragile little thing in that shower, I was
Stripped away and torn up, never really
                      
                l
               ­           o
                                    v
          ­                                     e
                                                          *d

a candy apple red heritage soft-tail classic
on a rusted dirt road
i am built of where i've been

the mango groves
the east and west coast
and every camp-ground in canada
this map is my home
let me tuck you into the folds
and sing you to sleep
some place sweet
where the air smells of earth and rain

don't let the concrete tame you

the road under foot is not measured by the steps necessary to travel it
but the way one migrates over the breaking soil
resting between where we are and where we'll be
when our dreams run free
and the tent's set in the pines

barefoot
running shoes
doc martens
thumb to the sky
pack on my back
black top under bridgestones

let us fly

let us soar

s'go

i'll take you with me
like my sleeping bag
and skinning knife
and canteen

be the water that i drink

fuel the fires that propel this engine
drive me to the end of the road
where one can only go by foot
and feather
and foolishness

let's disappear in the fog of the north
the mud of the east
the heat of the south
the haze of the west

let's find ourselves in the topography of folded bodies
tangled up in a flesh scented tent

Remember locking eyes that first time?
The dimly lit room on the bad side of town.
We were just children,
and you laughed at everything I said.

Remember kissing me unsure, yet steady?
Our first kiss, at my parents house,
hiding in the stairwell,
as our hearts beat like thunder.

Remember letting me steal your clothes?
Just that sweatshirt, and the others
so your scent could linger
just long enough to lull me to sleep.

Remember when you let me in?
Our two bodies becoming one
as we exchanged
our last pieces of innocence.

Remember those petty fights?
You told me I was crazy,
but I was just insecure.
You were stubborn, but I always won.

Do you remember the end, my love?
My world crumbled into pieces,
and you were free, at last.
Your parents were thrilled, and I just cried.

Remember seeing me again?
You hated me, but the *** was good,
and I was willing to be treated like that
just to see you for that short-lived moment.

Remember that hotel we met at?
We had just started college.
I confessed that I always have loved you,
and I think you felt something too.

Then, do you remember the distance?
We both tried so hard,
but in the end you knew,
there wasn't enough we could do.

Remember parting again?
We went months without speaking,
you and your school, I and my life;
Emerging on the other side, as friends.

Do you remember that summer?
You went away, helping others for you.
I finally was able to let go;
I moved on, scared, but ready.

All this time has passed,
and still, here we are.
Not meant to be anything more than we are.
I'm glad to remember.

Have I forgotten the passion within
All for a prince and a king
But what might have been
Not even tears for what might have been

My tears unspoken, eyes that would never cry
Love is dead.

He stood with the world at his feet
The beguiling love of an honest-man
Now the world marches by
All to the lamentations of that also ran.

A movie date with
The woman I dreamed for. Yes,
This is Forty, Love.

Tonight I realized,
I really am alone.

what i said:
"you sound rough this morning."


what i meant:
"your voice is lavender and honey and tea time and supernovas colliding with gentle breezes and if i could wake up to it, just once, cocooned in a tangle of your arms and couch cushions and that blanket you keep in the back of your car, i swear by the stars in my eyes no one on this godforsaken planet would be out of earshot of my singing

i hope that tonight when i dream of you--it is no longer a matter of uncertainty, but anticipation--you speak like you've just overslept your alarm and frantically motored yourself to where i am, like is the case today.

i wish you had chosen me but if i could only listen to you speak to me, about anything--rivers or math homework or football or belonging or music or even your girlfriend--i promise i would listen with the beating urgency of a swimmer in a frozen stream, i would savor each word from your lips, like they were the spring and i was the underground daisy waiting for your kiss.

and in precisely three days i will have an essay to compose about a beautiful topic that would consume me thoroughly were it not for the memory of your groggy morning voice, so full of raspy complacency i can't breathe but instead of fulfilling my obligations i will be hashing out halfway comprehensible poetry about you and crying about how i cannot recreate the sound of your voice with any combination of hollowly clicking keys.

you are so beautiful that i could spend the remainder of my life with a five-subject notebook, scrawling 'your eyes. your smile. your hands. your voice' over and over endlessly and die feeling as though i had lived a thousand years of quiet adventure.

you are so much and too much for me and i have no idea why you see as much in me as you do but i will not question it, for fear that if i were to come too close to you, to run my fingers along the marvel of your face you would shrivel and unfurl into nonexistence, like the leaf in the fire."


and also:
"why can't your voice always sound like this?"

and finally:
"******* you're attractive"