We wait on the steps of the landing.
Looking up and down. As he checks his
lapels in the mirror. They pop up. Mom
fixes Baby-face-David’s jacket. His muscles
don’t fit. They pop up as he looks up and down.
The mirror isn’t full length but it’ll do.

The dogs sit and watch Baby-face-David on the steps
of the landing. Looking up and down.
They pop up as he walks to the door.
No ride today but a scratch’ll do.
Baby-face David looks in the mirror and gets in the
cab of the small truck. He doesn’t fit.

Leafs of paper fell against an autumn-destined sun; words flew through the blind eyes of an anticipating one.
Cars blew smoke in curls, across the still-wet grass, to wrench away a single soul who couldn’t help but pass.
Sun’s up by sun’s down as dawn turned into dusk, awaiting time to sleep, while the moon held its bright husk.
Remembering their way through an ever-changing path, it wasn’t hard to worry for the cold street’s twisted wrath.
A figure in the distance, hope hid but a flame. They walked and met each other’s eyes on the cold, dark, silent plain.

My dad would always warn me to be careful when falling in love;
I fall too quickly for my own good.

So on the days leading up to the moment you arrived,
I made sure I steadied my footing,
readying myself for the moment I would.
I could tell I was going to.
I wanted to be prepared.

But as I stood in that airport, my knees were already trembling.
It seemed as though the moment I saw you coming down that escalator,
I lost my footing.
All of a sudden everything around me had disappeared.
All at once, I was falling.

I wondered if skydiving rivaled that thrill, and the fear.
My heart never stopped pounding.

When we got back to the car,
I kept staring at you as though you'd vanish.
My mouth grew dry with dread.
I worried I would wake any moment and all of this would have been nothing but a dream.
But I didn't, and you remained.

We stepped into my room and everything blurred.
I heard nothing but the air rushing by me as I fell harder each moment.
I turned to you, begging for clarity, and was met with a kiss.
For a moment, I could see again.
I warned you I was petrified.
You held me.

I saw the pieces of me I had lost when falling in the past come hurtling towards me as I fell.
When I woke up to you, your chestnut irises were still closed,
yet your breathing stabilized my rugged heart rate.
I was completely unaware of where the ground was,
or how hard I'd hit it,
but I savored the sight as though it were still all just a dream.

Each and every moment with you,
I feared the outcome.
I prepared myself with every aching hour for the impact.
My breathing was so unsteady, I felt on the verge of collapsing.
I closed my eyes. I couldn't let myself see what was coming.

As we sat on my bed, and you held me in your arms,
you begged me to open up.
You insisted I open my eyes,
and I fought tears as our breathing synchronized.
I could see the ground now.
The panic clawed its way out of my heart, up my throat,
and I felt my body shake as the words finally spilled out.

I braced myself.
I winced, expecting the pain.
I had anticipated every bit of me to shatter.
I was ready for there to be nothing left of me to break.

But I didn't break.

I could tell the world around me was still again,
but I wasn't on the ground.
I was not broken.
I was pieced back together, carefully.

You kissed me, breathing into me the life I thought I'd given up.
I finally opened my eyes, and as my vision focused,
there sat every piece of me I thought I had thrown away for each and every heartbreak before.
The parts of me that I had lost so long ago, that I assumed nobody would miss or remember,
sat upright, polished, and presented like precious gems.
The feeling in my body returned,
and I turned to those perfect orbs in disbelief--

you caught me.

You never let me go.

It was then that I realized that all the while I had readied myself to fall,
I had already spent my life preparing my heart for you.

So when my dad reminds me to be careful this time, I'll let him know:

I was, but I never needed to be.
You were right here all along,
waiting to catch me.

Asking a question does more than fill open space.
It expresses curiosity.
Devolving into things not easily expressed.
Given our availability.
It expresses a deeper need for connection.
Whether we are open to what we desire most.
Closed off to preference.
 The right time of day or night we can de-clutter.
Taking in what we give out.
Asking a question isn't something done out of boredom.
Or merely because your there.
It expresses a thought that requires action.
That I've thought of you.
That there is a desire laid bare.
An anticipation that builds until the next time
I am able to hear your voice.
For the more serious moments require a deeper tone.
An ear that senses deeper need.
Responding to this deep need of connection.
A need of care.
A need of longing.
To respond to this vulnerability not out of responsibility.
But in the openness of being

The fire, the foal, a coming of age
in the light of the darkness
be still.

Faithful, adjourning
take flight in the stars.
Wind gushes.

Away, you fools!
Grasping the straws
of camaraderie.

We light
we sparkle
then fade


Amen.

I am a fool,
Waiting for your return
Every time you leave.
I pretend to ignore you.
Sitting here patiently waiting
For you to come back.
The things said that aren't meant.
The way you turn your back,
The last word before storming out the door.
I am a fool.
Leaving the door unlocked.
Waiting for your return.
I should be happy with pretending.
The breath of fresh air that soon misses your face.
I'll be a fool
I'll be a fool to lock the door.
I'll be a fool to call knowing you'd press ignore.
The things said that aren't meant.
The anticipation that waits for that door to open.
Nowhere to go.
I am a fool, standing by the door.
I've run out of things to do.
Waiting on you to come back.
I'll be a fool to ignore what's in plain sight.
I'll be a fool

Twisted tummy
24 hours to get to you
I cannot chew
or swallow
or drink properly
it is all soggy cardboard
dans ma bouche.

Before I get to you
my heart stammers
a million times a minute
and I cannot
for the life of me
relax one little
bit.

Slow and steady
I attempt to breathe
but my body won’t be fooled
it knows you are nearer
to me.

When does our weekend begin
Time flies in contemplation.
The day ends, quick to start.
Belittling how the nights are not the same.
Caught in thought.
The laughs that start soon as I see you.
Things that occupy time until the next time.
Again becoming a past time.
The season changes in a matter of days.
The weekend still so far.
The human heart a mystery.
Full of affection. Restrained throughout the week.
Fond with anticipation.
To see you, to feel you.
The embrace of like minds melting in the torch of where we dwell most.
The week becoming longer and longer.
When can my heart beat it's fullest.
Running away with every throb.
Taking you further and further away from where we have to come back.
When does our weekend begin.
Holiday included, extended weekend.
Seeing you smile.
The weekend is near