my love for you is like an Ocean,
so vast & so deep.
there are fishes
at the bottom
with unrecognizable features
and names.

I ate a snickers bar in the rain and suddenly it is November 2nd 1998 and I am sneaking Halloween candy out of the freezer in the garage near the can of rags where the cat used to sleep. Homemade Halloween costumes. The damp air and the huge brown maple leaves covered in water, falling off the trees, layering the roads, clogging up the sewer drains. Were we happier, then. Four of us, in a house on a hill. What was that life. How am I to know? I was eight.

I chase my dreams like I chase this
******* ******* cockroach.

the closer I get the more it resists
darts away
crawls into little spaces I didn’t even know
were there.

when finally obtained
I am left with a slimy gooey mess,
and this half dead thing
with a twitching leg.

my heart broke.
it bled,
seeped through my shirt,
got onto the floor.

so much mopping.

they told me today
i has a canadian accent.
i’m not from canada.
you are.

you told me what was right
and you told me
what was
wrong: the right
way to say artisinal cheese;
the style of my hair;

the number of apps
on my smart phone;

milleneals; spelling;

capitalization; and
grammar.

how can I thank you
enough.

a dog barks from above
behind a barred window on the 5th floor.

seagulls cree and crow in the feathered
air as I walk past your apartment.
grey clouds are gentle but dull.

a penny shines from a sidewalk crusted
with old gum, leaves, and trash.

my nose runs.
do I follow.

I do not run for the train.
it will not come early.

I smile at ordinary objects
that remind me of you
with a melancholy smugness.

a violet morning glory electrified by
7am autumn sunshine
beckons memories of a blue one
from a gardened Brooklyn rooftop:

we picked the seeds
with a late-morning laziness;
I felt your bare back
and then stroked your hair.