I've been holding instead
of hugging, lately. And
I've found that everyone
feels like they're breaking--
thin pieces of plywood
that might snap if I squeeze
too hard--

there's nothing quite poetic
about the ways I miss you
in correlation to the lack
of time we spent getting
to know each other, but
i still feel the heat creep
up on my neck around
3am and I have dreams
that i'm chasing you
through tattered hallways
streaming with silk and felt
but never catching you, always
opening doors to more doors and
losing your heels around stapled
corners, and up plastic stairwells
I could have swore I was actually
up on Oak Creek Grade cleaning
mud out of my backseat, pulling
strips and strips of cotton from
the floors and nursing oily
shoulders--with someone
telling me take care of him,
take care of him--


it doesn't take much for me to realize when I'm still hoping for something.