girls are red and scary
girls are awkwardness and facing down
girls are a spark left to burn by accident
that grows into a fire
girls are safety until I cross the line.
boys are blue and big
boys are awkwardness and facing ahead
boys are a spark that gives out warmth and light
boys are doubt until it starts to happen.
girls are legs of lead and hands that are too big
doing what they're not supposed to
or ?
boys are airless lungs
and clumsy feet
running where they're not supposed to
or ?

one of the rare benefits
of being an invisible super-girl
that fits into everything
and vanishes into whispers.
i am allowed more.
i am allowed prolonged glances
i am allowed fixed stares
or tight grips;
it is allowed to be deliberate and brazen.
i am allowed to touch
to say too much
i steal and take so greedily.
i am allowed more
and i take what i can get.
until it's too much
then, i am allowed to cry
i am allowed to feel guilt
and fear of crossing the line
i am allowed shame
and regret
and more.

you left and all I have left is this stinking finger and tobacco relationship
the strings of it that I rip hard with my hands until they bleed
that I pour into the smoke of my lungs
you left and all that's left is this sinking feeling I get when your hometown is mentioned
so far and warm and unfamiliar
you left and all I have left is a ghost of the past
that hangs above me in the night
stealing into my dreams
stealing my daydreams
you left and I'm left with me
alone
all that's left
to the left of me
are the digits of your phone number
that I stab backwards into my hand
so as not to be left hard and drunk
and hardly aware
that I'm reaching for you again

for the last day of summer
I'll give it an honor of defining it:
the summer i stopped feeling shame
the summer i started to chip tobacco with my fingers
the summer my fingers started wearing rings
and my hands and legs and neck
other things
the summer of a lot
of drinks
painful
colorful
merciless
my first grandfatherless.
the first really hot
but the last this cold.
the summer of sweaty pillows in the night
and wet towels in the morning.
the summer we started doing the crosswords
each morning
the summer of female classic literature
and a lot of brain work.
the summer i need to call so many names
lest i call it by hers.

from the smallest rip in my heart i can still say i am in love with you
even though i have known your many years
and saw through many tears
i know the back of your hand like
every summer freckle on your face
or was it the other way around?
i can still say, within my deepest fears
that never come true
that i am in love with you
(even though i know you
over, across and beyond)
with the eagerness of a child
with wide-eyed desire
this infatuation and this fire
lit up as it was born yesterday
- but I've felt you since ever