I am loud,
Demanding attention.
I know when I am being charming
Because I try.
I put on my impressing face
And do my impressing hair
And speak my impressing words.
I tell you my embarrassing drinking stories
And everything else about me
That you probably shouldn’t know.

I am not good at being quiet
Because that’s not who I am.
I am not the sweet girl
Who will leave you with a smile
And a touch
And a glance
Or a single word.
There is nothing of this fashion of romance
About me.

I am the girl who will point out your flaws,
And take you outside to see the stars,
And remind you how human you are,
And what a wonderful thing that is.

I am the girl who will talk about science,
And music and theology and history,
And point out constellations, laughing,
When you don’t know the big dipper’s name.

I am the girl who will make witty references,
To classic literature and science fiction,
And will tell you stories of how I once,
Made a gingerbread replica of a lighthouse.

I am the girl who will stand on a table,
And sing at the top of my lungs on the highway,
And act like a chicken or quail or velociraptor,
Or nuzzle your face like a lion to make a point.

I am the girl who takes too many shots
And then coaxes you to bed on a Russian liver,
And knows all the right places to bite, and tease,
And follows with exceptionally coherent pillow-talk.

I am not a thin silk scarf on the wind.
I am not a thing hard to capture.
You would not spend a perilous journey
Through a wild, perfumed jungle,
Searching for my slender garments
Hung beside a pool
As I wail to the breeze.

Rather, I am the bird who flies overhead
Making too much noise
Distracting from the trail ahead.
A bird whose plumage proves
What an interesting life it must be…
What a colorful life for me…
Perpetually strange
The lone comic relief.

I am many things.
But I am not quiet.
Of this I am sure.

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine

Your name is the loveliest word
I've ever said. In my life
I've never known someone like you.
Your aura is a quilt
that I could spend all day in
if you'd let me.
I think the chances of me meeting
another you are absurd
and I find the whole idea
to be terrifying.
I could make so much room
for you in my heart.

The two-thirty train
Sweeps beside the river
I spent this moment in silent meditation
So many nights
So much of Spring
So much of Summer

This train is beautiful ambient noise
accompanying every thought filling this room
a soundtrack of clarity
I thought of laying awake with you
from a distance
I thought of laying awake alone somewhere else
missing the two-thirty train

It's starting to smell like Spring
It's starting to smell like Summer
It makes me think closeness
It makes me think of distance
Its a sick sweetness
I fondly remember moments far from fond

We stayed up talking on a school night
Youthful indiscretion
Half asleep giving anything to stay up
Wanting to see inside of what you thought you were
Wanting to hush your mind
What you thought you should be but weren't

Some nights I vividly recall shallow breathing right beside me
Inside my ears
You were as much here as you were there
I fall asleep with your breath tucked away in my brain
If I close my eyes you're beside me
But unable to embraced

Some nights I wouldn't dare sleep
Busy big hands with a little screen
Clicking touch-pad letters
Giving you a thousand reasons to stick around
A thousand resolutions
A thousand promises
And my thousands hours at your disposal

It's noon the next morning
You've yet to wake
I questioned if you would
In my mind we stayed up till dawn
Nursing you with what I have at my disposal
Sweet words
Every one true

The night before, I had heard the train
I was slumped into my pillow
Observing you from a distance
Asking that anything salvage you
Asking to carry your burdens
I begin to bargin
That you stick around longer with me

I lay here
Where I laid then
The train is beautiful ambient noise
I slip away from these memories
In time to hear the train depart
Its been a year and I think about that night
You woke up
I always want to make sure you do