I think the problem is
that you need a girl
who doesn't think
about what goldfish
dream about
or about worms
that get washed up
on rainy days.

A girl who doesn't think
about
raindrop races
on windowpanes.
A girl who doesn't
point out clouds
that puff out like the
dragons
she reads about.

A girl who likes
politics
and not fantasy.
A girl who cries when
the endings are sad.
Not happy.

A girl who lives
for the sake of
love
and not
herself.

A girl who is
definitely
not
me.

I think
the problem is
I'm happy
it's not.

My greatest
fear is that
eventually
I'll only
be a hollow shell

After over
exposure
through these
words

And cursed
to conjure
deep mysteries
while searching
for a place
in this
world

You always went along
with my ideas
and my desire to be near
water
and away
from people.

A desire that remains
even now
that you're gone.

We were so young
and it seemed to me
that the thin gravel trails
stretched out across the hot marshes
the same way
our futures did.

I never had to explain it,
not to you.

You would hop in my car
with a smile
as I'd tell you my plan
to watch the sunset
from wetlands.

To walk around
swamps
in muggy
New Jersey summer
was probably the last thing
anyone wanted.
But there we were
on a bridge,
talking about things
that we didn't know
wouldn't matter
ever.

I think we both just felt
lost
and found comfort
getting lost
in vaguely familiar places.

There are so many
conversations
I can't remember.

But I remember
watching the sun
go down
and running
down those gravel trails
screaming,
laughing,
because mosquitos
eating us alive
was the only concern
worth having.

The only thing
that would matter,
ever.

Dave was the kind of guy to always talk about leaving; we have all known a guy like Dave and we have always wished he would go, not because we didn’t want him around but because we knew he was one of the few who could go. Sometimes he would work up the courage and leave this suburban drive by; he even spent a few months out west, Portland or something. He never mentioned it much, the trip didn’t last long, more like an extended vacation before he was back working the same job, drinking at the same bar and kissing the same woman, well not the same exact woman but she was always close enough to the previous one, the difference seemed insignificant to us. I'd look at him at the end of that bar, sipping his beer as he wore the face of a man who was often late for work because he lost his keys. He found them once before between the cushions of the couch, so now every time he misplaced them, he would check their first and check again six more times. Always looking for what he needed in the same place he found it once.

I'm falling endlessly
into a pit,
poor timing when I jumped.
Surely this
is the end?

Heart pounding,
darkness makes way for light
and for a moment
I forget
where I am.

Turning restlessly,
the vaguely familiar blurs that my
poor vision allows,
I find your face and realize
my jump
was a dream.

It seems sleep gave you back
years of your life.
The sand in your eyes make you
a boy again.
And I can't help but wonder
the dreams you could be chasing
or the lack thereof.

Your breath comes slowly,
your chest rising
and falling.
The broken gears
and cut wires
of your small frame
coming together
to create
a smooth running
sleep machine.

For a moment
I'm jealous,
it looks so easy to do
when I'm watching you.
Like you're more capable than I
of rest
and relaxation.
You found the switch that turns off
your brain
that I
was not built with.

The next moment,
my thoughts
are far.
I struggle to tell the difference
between what's happened
and what's dreamt.
Panic sets in
and as I sort reality
your eyes
flutter open.

Eyelashes shaking sleep
from your face.
Like fallen leaves
taking off into the sky
from a sudden
wind.

Your eyes focus
on me
expectingly.

Like before you woke up,
you knew exactly
where
you'd be.

Your lips stretch
into a lazy smile
breaking my daze with a dreamy,
"Good morning".

And once again,
I'm left to wonder
if I'm here
falling
after a poorly timed
jump.