Another Tinder match
supposed we hike to bromo mountain
If not to suffer me

neighbor country guy
Where jaded is the least people be
lives in a bunkbed dorm room
For months and months
Certified to put judgement
on strangers

He studies everyone
But locals
Talks in languages
but local's

He's interested in story of stragers
But not my story
Too local maybe

One lunch in a local's
I lend him lunch money
He never thinks he owes me
A thing

He sits there on the corner
Reading people's story
Those whose land made
By foreign spices, coal, and sweats
Like me

Summer was
******* on sugarcane and cinnamon peels
handed from your grandparents, occasionally mine
when our roller-skates made love to cracks in
                             the sidewalk
          our knees were drunk on its feathers
so many specks of moss get caught in there, too

    you taught me not to cry
or have that formaldehyde-chugging look
until I hit the bunkbed; your sheets made my sweat
look so much worse
                          we got anything we could want.

I wanted to kiss you when your wore your
Popsicle lipstick, a freeze cracking the crib of your
       mouth and circling buzzards around.

But how does a girl say
   she would rather have someone than a cigarette  
      stick of candy from the ice cream man –
the ones she would twirl like cherry stems
    and feign middle school maturity?

  We would whisper about things at night
with the lamp off, our pants down
                                                   but never ever love:
love is for adults. Love is Mardi Gras in the city
           not powdered sugar from beignets
   or the kind of beads you settle around your neck.

I wanted to be the bayou you swam in,
cast your fishing pole at the underbelly of and
  counted how many seconds it took to lift back up.
I wanted to be a chest you put
         your personal belongings in, a treasure box.
Most of all, I wanted
                          to be your personal belonging
              the treasure you immediately thought of –
        but that is not what Summer was.

My sister karen was a manhater
she hated all men
deliriously
she would sit on the top
of the bunkbed she shared with sue
and with one finger curl her hair
then pull it out by the roots
it was quite disturbing
she would spend hours
every saturday doing this
until she had almost no hair left
the family worried for her

During the week when I would
come home from school (I think
I was around 7 or 8) karen (being
older and bigger) would run up to me
kick me in the gut
push me to the floor
jump on top of me
grab me by the ears
and pound my head
on the floor until
my brains fell out
this went on for several weeks
until I told my parents and
they finally put an end to it

One night sue didn't want to get caught
eating an apple in bed
so she put the core in the toilet
and it clogged it
we (all four of us)
were awakened in the middle of the night
and had to line up so my mother
could beat us with a belt
until someone confessed
I was tired so I said okay
I did it
I got a good belting that night
I was suspended from school
for a week because the teacher
complained that the welts on my back
were bleeding so profusely that
lt was interrupting the learning process
of the other children

One day I was coming home from school
and I got caught in a hailstorm
I got pelted really good
Lucky for me Mr. Doty was home for lunch
so I took cover under
his light blue ford f-series pick-up truck
hail as big as golf *****
some the size of baseballs
continued to rain down
I don't know for how long
because I fell asleep

"What were you doing under there?"
he questioned as he was shaking my arm
awakening me
(I quess he thought I was messing around
or something)
I came to and stated
"THE GOLF ***** WERE FALLING
I NEEDED A PLACE TO HIDE"
"oh" he said
"you mean to tell me you were in THAT?"
"yessir" I replied
"well, your schoolday's almost over,
maybe you should go home and rest"
"yessir"
And I went home and rested

When karen turned eighteen
she married a wife beater
for nearly ten years he would
ugly 'er up
finally she couldn't take anymore
and divorced him

But she was only following tradition
my grandpa beat his wife
my father beat his wife
and al beat karen

Yep, those three knew
how to really take a beating

But, not from a hailstorm

If I survive the next few years, I may wish I'd written more about this time. My self is certainly transforming, but it's such a minimal bother to document it. It's 7:10 am. I worked at the bar until about one. Bill came by unexpectedly, and I went to his house and bought twenty grams for five hundred, as well as fifty worth of **** for Gillian. I suppose I've been high since about 11 o'clock.

John says that Bill is certainly the most intelligent man he's ever met. I used to feel that way about people. I spent the rest of the night at the bar, and then at the couch, talking to Sarah and Liz. Liz's last name is Oliphant. Sarah is Croatian. Liz is prettier. I would like to kiss either of them.

This **** may be better than last time, I'm not sure. As usual, as is whenever I get high, everyone leaves me in the early morning. It was around five this time. Maybe five thirty. As usual I thought to watch TV but Andrea looked so comfortable curled up on the couch in reception and I hadn't the heart to bother her. I learned a new word today: gallow, I believe it was... meaning to frighten. Or gallowed, meaning to be very afraid.

As is not usual, this time after I got in bed I did another line. Two in fact. And the largest I'd done all night. Because oddly this is the first time in the last month that I've stayed up all night without having anywhere to be, or otherwise any obligations the next day. I was going to go to the markets and buy pants. But I suppose a day in bed will justly stall that need for another turn at least.

And it had been a while. Actually I can't even remember when. The last time I was high by myself, and not overly drunk, and able to just stare up at the bunkbed slats supporting the German or French or Dutch fellow now above me and feel the unmoderated effect of the dear drug itself as she works through me. I know I'll regret this. I always regret it. But I was regretting it already and so to stall the regret and stare upwards for a few hours, treating myself to a little selfish time, seemed not the lowest of sins.

And I work at four. Four to eight thirty. So even if I don't sleep a wink and even if I continue to defy conscience and maybe do the one more line thing again, I can still power through. Can still sit leeward on the barstool and listen to 90's alt rock hits and putter through the motions of making it past eight. I can do that. And I can spend 30 minutes in this exaltation and then stare listlessly at the mattress above me and all its cartoon moons and stars while I debate the uselessness of my life and all the strings I've severed when I came here to drown.

Because this is a true story. It doesn't wrap up, or nicely. And there's no twist, but ongoing turns I guess. I'm a newborn, dripping with womb in a way and without even language or very many clothes: I feel much like one indeed. And I tried to buy a phone card today because it's something I need but the man told me to go somewhere else, gave good directions, and I didn't really understand. Likewise it seems will fail my dream for today to get out of this room, and buy new pants.

I can accept my grandfather dying. Every time I've seen him I've said goodbye. And he in his humble way, or maybe faith, always hints at see you soon. My grandmother sure. If anything somewhere maybe I expected the grief would take her. Or afterwards the dire space left between caring for her husband's ailing pains. But I always thought I'd know well before my mother would go. And now won't. And honestly never considered but now dramatically realize: I'll never be an uncle to my brothers' sons. Never see my sister find her place. Never see Brandy become the quiet dark eyed schoolteacher she is in my dreams. And also she will die and I won't see that, either. Not even anyone will call on the phone.

So I start with, "if I survive the next few years" because regardless those years will mean loss. Either loss of those loved, or more likely loss of that complex potential of mind... that once made space to love them. Or maybe better lost the own bitter instrument. And I say it all without condolence because each those ways feel, to me, tragic. Each way feels to me like something bright once in the world, that had to perish. I go forth with some sadness into the dark.

I was circling seeing the symbol at
the square like great ***** of fire
Making his move the checkmate
The overcrowded City all sharked Inn
Persian cats  the parade of top hats
The women with her furry-coat
She has some woofing bark
The time to be happy but sulking

Dark, what? (Dr. Seuss Square Hats)
what happens when no one listens

Eyes far away masquerade to glisten
Holy water so purified  this earthly planet
A give or take got terrified all flatten
linked face and body invasion of the body
snatchers those crazy cats like a
A boy to the crunch snicker
were squeaking someone saw
something squealing card dealing

What the (Bobcats) cat napping
Stray cats ***** pack City rats
Were stinking up the alleyway
The whole nightclub was a square
the Disco ball have it your way
What time is it anyway 
 his hangover jerky

  Eggs Benedict Times Square the
formula of love project what did I do
for the next subject

What I did_ go daddy so diddy I was his lady
And he was so___square toast Arnold
So  dorm dorky was a big ball Porky
Pig glob New York Times all I read was What I did
The girl has to have ***** but the Victorian doll face
Christmas red glitter ***** came to be a disgrace

He's such firecracker handball the soccer ball he wasn't
showing up and what I did I met the Canadian Cups
I met someone else named  Rob what a dip drip dribble

He was fixated on the TV square rabbit ear antennas
Feeling like a round bubble brain chit chat yentas
In his RV square cell phone apps laying their sedated
Twins overlapped taking naps

Archer Ball hotel Archie what a "Bunkbed"
  outside in the lobby 'Talking heads' group,
they could see you talking in your sleep
that sleepytime tea Vampy crime
with his beat-up square chair
the doorknob speckled all dotted polka dot 
 Magnifying glass ball someone will fall

Itzy ritzy French bikini he fantasized
Into her curves, he needed
better ***** going firm up
The New Year was germ cup
To many Apple computers like
Jumping Jack more apple phones
it's the New Year you hear
So many serial murderers here's
(Jumping Jack)
he got trashed
Such a comic Jughead so bushed
He was outdated so Square he didn't
have one square in his head I was in the mood
making  round's
With celebration drinks ball twister looking
inside my crystal ball

New light counting 1-2-3-4 waiting without a
care 5-6-7-8 my head is pounding for the
New Year, everything is a number
People are like lemons
square cakes
All we do is have a fight to
the nearest rounding
A perfect round stone
Diamond why exchange silly name
Diamond Exchange
You know what I did for
Times Square right?
Don't go back tumbling in the past
Tumblr no one has time to check
your pictures all science and physics

Why does everyone want your birth number
Getting dimmer adding right dress
The ball did go up or what I did put a lid on it
  Holy hot tamales stick to the
new year priorities
Did I have a kiss or another year to miss?

The ball going down I need him to get up
Basket-Ball Hoop Snoop Dog
The concert felt like Ms. Betty Boop
New York necklace of fruit loops
  Please allow me to introduce
myself symphony
of the devil
I am a man I will do anything for my lover
When our time is right I will just leave her
Foreign Cat tongue milking let's be personal
Times Square New York New York
The Billboards and mural "Marilyn Monroe"
names of Doe look at her new legs
Her white dress flew away
with her money
gold bonds
She's the love talker he's savvy
(New Yorker)
New day, every hour, every time
Times Square
Jailbird meeting the blue square tie bird boss
He was the show wicked crime light cross
Is it really such a waste of time?
College teens of frats scholars

No one cared to have principles
What will I do for twin double
Eyes coupled
What I saw multiple personalities
what will be the resolution?

Singing in the New Year
he takes a New Year ***** Diva
her one of a kind glass
Someone threw it in the grass
Hum, Hum, Hum singing
He's downtown going forty-second street
Are you kidding me this is
Times Square
Do you have square curved
into your bone body
Go home and get some sleep
on your *****
This squares it up no extra rounds
That's what I did 4 Times Square
No love circles just being
you Square
Married diamonds square
shape worth it.
Kiss the whole earth lit

sitting, lying in his bed alone
balanced perfectly in a disinterested, nonexistent relationship
composed purely of ***** calls that i make
every so often
when im in town.
we dont really talk, at most a drink,
before we start ******* in his oversized bunkbed.
we didnt even kiss when he left this morning,
leaving me naked and untouched.

usually we **** three times when i come over:
twice before going to bed, and once in the morning.
this time we ****** once.
and i know he’s busy studying,
and i know i dont care about him that way,
so why is it all gnawing at me?

it’s probably the romance-soaked pages of the books ive been devouring lately.
movies, tv shows, films
cannot really capture the inner monologue, the lingering butterflies,
the lust one can have for romance rather than ***,
but still a lust in definition.
i want something, i want to have something that i want, i want to want,
but i haven’t wanted in a long while
and i’ve forgotten what it feels like.

maybe im merely and impulsively looking for a way
to ruin what i have so beautifully constructed, piece by piece, as i turned my back on it over
and over
and over.
im only interested in the disinterested,
so maybe im looking to blow down this paper castle of fuckery i’ve built around us,
as I interlace our fingers
as he takes me from behind.

last time we ******,
he told me he was leaving for germany in september,
and he wouldnt be coming back until he had a wife.
he is four, five years my senior,
but the thought makes me uneasy and a bit nauseated.
the closest things ive had to a relationship
are intense, but fleeting, three week flings with israeli boys with beautiful eyes who can barely speak english,
and what we have, four years of ******* but maybe once each year

we first hooked up when he was my age, 21, and i just 17.
it took me a year from then to lose my virginity before i would **** him.
it took me ******* up my flight plans a few years later for it to happen again,
even though i left a girl friend’s apartment that night claiming i would not be ******* him,
unlike the last 5 guys that week.

we didnt cuddle last night, either,
like we normally do when the AC has finally cooled our sweat soaked bodies
enough to handle non-***-crazed touching.
but i guess in the end it is always and just ***,
the budding of it at least,
for every time we spoon
it results in those lil’ hip gyrations, grinding together ever so slightly, until his **** stiffens against my ***,
and eventually, i allowed it to go there,
painful and ****-less.
but the ******* inside of me was delighted,
always wanting him to rough me up a bit more,
slap me a bit harder,
choke me a bit longer...
i’ll take the pain where i can get it.

this cannot be romance.
romance does not push your head further still, after gargling its hairy *****, towards its even hairier ***.
this is not romance.
i cannot paint these white roses red
for they are not even roses.
they are far lighter and more frail than the most delicate origami,
but a breathe away from toppling down,
sustained by
neglect,
****,  
and
*******
alone
in his room after he has gone.

The day you broke
I knew.
I was asleep in a bunkbed
in a campground that was all too
silent.

I woke to a thump I had heard
on the roof
and I thought
maybe it's ghosts
maybe it was hers.

That camp was meant to cure
my selfishness,
I had lost my freckles
my lungs
my calluses
it was meant to find the forest
as a new health because
I couldn't keep my shoulders back
far enough to help myself

It reminded
me of your slouched posture and
crying together
on piano benches

The day after Jess died
I hated her as much as you did.

I found out through a facebook post
and climbed the nearest
mountain.
stumbled over rotten logs,
ripped my pants
trying to get a cell phone signal.
you didn't answer.

I cried for an hour
because I was 300 miles away
and I knew you were too.

I am sorry that I ever
let my mind wander into the
darkness that hers fell to
because I know that
that could have been me
3 months before
but you helped me not to.

When I was trapped
by darkness
you were my lighthouse.
Singing with you
is the best I ever feel.
The air that awakens my lungs
at the exact moment as yours,
gives me the clarity I
was searching for
in that campground
I hope you find it too.

When the grand kiddos were little
We’d dream, big eating Rainbow skittles

Illuminating adventures in their mind
Telling fantastical story, to Unwind

They had a room in Nana and Papa‘s home
It was an imaginary place to freely Rome

One year it was the Pirates of the Caribbean
A bunkbed ship top bunk for lookout see’n

large canvas sail and fishnet to the ceiling
Glow paint the night stars realistic feeling

The captains quarters maps for steering
A talking parrot for laughter cheering

Imagination is in the minoot details
Starfish, sharks barnacle on the side rails

Looking at the finished room created
Pirate ship, Sea foam walls, stars stated  

Three boys, chose pirate names
For nightly stories are pirate games

Parents  never cool Nana the exception
Mother of invention, honorable mention

Bubble bath ink octopuses perils at sea
Captain jack to the rescue them three

Sleepy time, tea on the Shanghai express
Sail north to dreamland pirates , PJs dress

The story began each pirate made it grand
Ship battles buried treasure in white sand

Imagination fizzled started to fade
An epic Story completed well played

Listen, while the cobwebs feel their head
Prayers said success they’re asleep in bed