Your breath dissipates to wind,
Blowing cold against my bare cheek
Creating goosebumps

Frigid, I clench my jaw
Afraid to give you frostbite
With icy exhales

I love you in the wintertime,
Where the world grows as cold
As your heart

Especially for you.
I'll take room key for 2
Roses and couple of  balloons..
Tell me why you wanna make a move?

I'll take the blame if u stay.
Your yelling well let's throw a little parade.
Your mad at me but I'm not mad at you
It's like the room is me I feel consumed!

I don't understand I made my feet do the talking ..
I thought that ring was through the ******* I promise.
But if you think I'm worthless okay well I guess I'm garbage.

Especially for you
I only think of you
So what you tryna do ?
You hate the questions to
But isn't that how answers turn lessons with view ?

I just finished Face Timing with Sunny, one of Lisa and my roommates.
She’s an edgy half-a-laugh, and I can’t wait to see her in person.
Sunny’s a slipa and seductive gadabout - this poem is about her summer:

She’s a treacherous lover whose infidelities could populate
a city of confessions. Apparently, the streets we ignorantly
travel, are crowded with immediate, sordid, physical wants.

And Sunny, she can see them, like blinking neon bar lights,
feel them, like radio waves the rest of us monkeys miss.

Does she ****** the Waffle House waitress (in the restroom),
the professor (in the closet), the Urban Outfitter salesgirl
(dressing room), the dental receptionist (supply room),
the bar girl who rejects everyone else that hits on her
(backroom), or do they ****** her?

“How do you know?” I asked her once.
“I know,” she said, nonchalantly purring like a big, Serengeti cat after a ****. Now, you might ask - it’s legit - how do I know these trysts are real?

Well, at school, she brings a different girl to her room almost every night.
They pass through our common area quietly, on the way to her room.
And, like you and all of us - she carries a camera - and uses it.
Her cloud archive is an ******, deep dive into a hidden America.

Flipping through it leaves me breathless, and I’m not fem-facing.
If she sold it to ‘The Getty’ they’d have to open a new wing.
.
.
Songs for this:
i wanna be your girlfriend by girl in red [E]
Lava by Still Woozy
.
08.16.2:30p

Students everywhere feel a close relationship with summer. It develops early and you never lose it. It’s durable.

Let's  poeticize..
It was a youthful summer of unblemished mirth.
In play, our youthful hours were freely spent.
We bore such idleness - we were indulgent.
Until Lisa confessed she was less so content
and longed desperately for a ‘wholesome reunion’
with her love (Dave) and to resume that courtship in the same
fevered spirit as when they last parted, in Paris.

“Life’s complicated,” Lisa offered, at the end of our talk.
“So complicated,” I agreed.
It’s amazing how quickly a plan can coalesce.

ANNND, we’re back in Manhattan, at Lisa’s (parents) 50th floor residence.
I asked Karen (Lisa’s Mom) once, “If you own this (a floor of a building) is it called an apartment, a condominium..,” my voice faded on the question.
“A residence,” she answered after a moment’s thought. She’s a lawyer.

Georgia got too hot. Not to dwell on the grotesque side of girlhood - but enough sweat already.
Shakespeare (Henry IV) wrote, “sweat extraordinarily, if it be a hot day.” Yep, done that - for really.

In lieu of all our pains, we now want AC, high-end amenities, constant concierge services and stunning views.
We’ll be back in New Haven in nine short days - and back in class in eighteen.
Call 911, someone’s stolen our summer!
.
.
Songs for this:
New York City Serenade by Bruce Springsteen
New York State of Mind by Billy Joel

The grand ambition of love is to find “the one.”
and, of course, to be the one.

It’s a hard combo.

Finding someone amiable, who’s the best lover, your best friend,
confidant, emotional companion, intellectual equal and soulmate.

And, of course, it helps if ‘the one’ likes to dance
and has a little piña colada money too.

And when do you know you've been successful - in year 50?

It’s the holy grail, the age-old dilemma of love and desire.
.
.
A song for this:
Bullet and a Target by Citizen Cope
Wait Another Moment by The Bingtones

Doors with no pleasance
Doors with a memory of teeth
Doors with angels to remark, a unison in chance
Doors with dread for each sincerity, we let

Doors in love?
Still to fore, the guarantee
The silence of guidance, to relocate to us
Welcome a shrewd forth, as if might made me happy

Tenuous
And taken with a smile
Here to say, time with baring, to bless
Has come by the still day, all the while

Liberty...
Is a raging storm the only way to communicate?
The assuaged voice of redemption, a universes key
To take to another, the open bother, of sense to wait

For passion to become...
Got, in a row of exception, enthusiasm
Has to have it now, the levity of questions all along
In the name of an answer, a place for a heart to avow at last

She wear acceptation, like a moment alone
She dream in dances, that will the wisdom to life
She speak in loves riddles, answered only by love, atoned
She take to the time, to sit the hour with our decency, wife?

Wasn't, not was...
The tale of entertained innocence
Speak of the devil, is all of a heed, a buzz?
Long times with a pretty eye, that took on the proverbial since...

Honey, and a summary land...
Sent to a rhyming breeze? obscure was a noble they
Venting irony for a risen dance? welcoming mercy at hand
Baring the shall's comment to a calling? secrets with prettier eyes, may...

Talking with the burden; so adroit, of a banal instinct...?
Has focused another's eye on the problems of home...
Heavenly couth or the curse of happenstance
Has welcomed us, not the spoil of demand, but a wish becoming some...

Wealth, versus wisdom
In the pity, we fight like aristocratic futures...
Found like a stricken conversation let, to complete and win
Salvation of a peace; is ours for question we made, to purity...

But, where, is the fun in that...
Save your hug first, for a rolling presence of sharing a loyalty
Simple as pie, a black bird has spilled the beans, a royal isn't...
That is the cough of dependency, for a soul with or without, simplicity?

Good morning, angel
How was the nights resolve, sleepy philosophy till the end?
You awoke when a silence was early, the hour given to little...
Loves and daring decency, of a waiting hope, to make your liberty a host to render...?

The patience you show, and the embarrassment of should?
A showing live of simpler sorts, with the count of shadows...
Persistent little cease and desist, approval of a nary come would
Without a friend for hap, from here to eternity with a spoken said:

Wishes that play the part
Wishes that compare final luck, to a promise that seems to keep
Wishes that rued the irony of poise, into two parts of art
Wishes that sake a divine course for the breath of a season's leap

Of succinct chances and flowers that gave the wonder of solitude...
Somewhere, the poignancy of a shared idea, if not the dragon that made you...
Is a weary hindsight, that has sat on the laurels of worth, like a shoulder
Your care for these, meant and lent with virtue, has juice to please?