The touch of your hands
on the small of my back sends a wave
like an ocean crashing against the shore,
the sound of your voice
makes me want more and more.
I look into your eyes
hoping to see the same desire,
the touch of you will only fuel my fire

Some poems are pretty
about dreams or life or love
But I mostly prefer poems
Like the underside of stuff

I like poems like fruit, ripped open
and getting in my eyes
Like the underside of rocks, crawling and alive
I like poems like the inside of apartment buildings
Like my parents, talking in their room
and hearing them say my name
Like waiting for the bus and edging away
from the drunk guy who keeps talking to me
I like poems like long lines at the DMV, like
the music they play in grocery stores
I like my poems pale, with their ribs sticking out
shadows under their eyes from years of sleepless nights

I like ugly poems, poems that look like me

she tells me she wants to go to the beach
on a day where we may each have the time off
i tell her "of course, i'd love to"
when really in my head i want to tell her
"i would take every **** day off just to go anywhere with you".
the beach, DMV, a gravel parking lot, my mother's abandoned apartment, her father's old high school, the desert, a hospital waiting room, her wealthy indecisions.