This is
my
idyllic, broken Midwest.

Bird Motel
never to settle
only a stop
on a journey

I hope you enjoy your stay

I’ve learned to be playful
so
playful
I would be as playful with you
as the dancing sounds
these words make as they
drop
drop
drop
from my mouth
to this paper thin, glass sheet of cadence
Sometimes they stick
flattened out like
g     u      m
trod on by years of
cheap dress shoes
marching the weary feet they house
into another cut-out day
in the same square building
Sometimes they bounce
tink
tink
tink
across the surface
creating their own beauty
seemingly without need for my pen

I’ve learned to be gentle
so
gentle
I would be as gentle with you
as the soft brush
of what is written
against what is meant
So carefully touching
that only tangent we come
one point being
all I need

I’ve learned to be nurturing
so
nurturing
I would be as nurturing with you
as the warm, damp soil
to the seed
as the sharp, prepared mind
to the idea
Giving structure
setting tones
I could be the time
in which you bloom
again
Just for this springtime
I will be springtime

Yes
I think it's safe to say
I've always had a soft spot
for the poetic, the symbolic
grasp after, two independent ideas
apply meaning and significance
through shared traits, proximity
or even a similar patter
of names running down the hallway

I think it's an understatement to say
that I've always had a soft spot
for the poetic, the symbolic
As a child I remember
explaining to a peer that
My Problem
was in my mind, it made too
many
connections
too
fast
and that makes things
difficult to interpret
Of the sea of possibilities
you're expected to pick
just one
I always chose the one
that reminded me of something previous
Snow is to cold, as square is to rectangle
But not always,
but enough.

At this point
I think there is little else worth saying
because it's the only valid explanation
for why I would pull you
so strongly
into my life
Because I've always had a soft spot
for the poetic, the symbolic
No, you aren't poetic.
But neither is solid rock
and you should see
what they've written
about the mountains
Maybe there was something
something that reminded me
of something else
something before
something learned
but never practiced

And maybe
when I met you
my mind made too
many
connections
too
fast

And maybe
I settled
on the piece of yarn
suspended between the tack stuck in you
and the tack stuck in this something

God, do I wish my mind
made just a few less connections

I hope you still think of me
I hope you still drink for me
I hope all the lights
feel so dim
when you're missing me

Explosive
This word has been applied to me
for as long as i can remember
usually following
short periods of time
that I do not remember

Maybe it was unfair
of me
to expect you
to disarm
what you had no hand in creating

But if you had just wrapped your presence around me
I know it would have dampened
my unpredictability
long enough for you to reach in
and discover
Why. I. Am. So. Angry.

But you didn't
so I still place my feet with care
my hands even more so