the baby teeth grin at you from your pockets
blood still fresh on them like the first wildflowers
of spring still blossoms on fingertips

i know you remember him, i saw you kissing the stone
wedged in the ground with his name etched
and a meaningless date because we all know
his lungs shriveled far before then.

you cannot hold onto the cold
he is a summer wind left to roam the world,
even if it is one under all that
we walk on if that is what you choose to see.

a rolling stone gathers no waves
to beat against mercilessly, smoothing
all the tough nights (spent on hotlines
because there were thousands of others
but none that called you by the right name)

don’t feel bad for escaping to your own
bat-infested cave. it is dark and your heart bitten
still better to bite than bring light
to heart-stalagmites

i sometimes gouge my mouth with flowers in a strange attempt to give myself roots
i want to feel full, like blood under fingernails and skin on the table
all life is a crescent moon anxious for the next full,
the best you can do is to plant and pray and let it grow but
i sometimes wonder if i am pulling myself apart or putting myself back together

how dare you wipe your tears with my paycheck.
part of me thinks i deserve to be greedy with
my own blood (after all, i grew it myself)
even a bleeding-heart should be able to clot
every wednesday and again when it’s time for dinner

if you choose to destroy yourself i am not going to stop you
even if my shoulder is both your podium and kleenex i will
love you endlessly for who you are rather than what,
and if that’s not a friend then i don’t have any at all