In my graduation t-shirt,
and it fits right,
she finger-and-thumbs
the switch on my desk lamp.
Lights on.
And I'm getting too thin.
It shouldn't fit right.
"No, no. I want it dark," I say.

"Tell me what's off limits."

Her eyes, big and wet with bongwater,
wash over me. I'm pebble. I'm allowed.

"Why?"

"I want to know what's off limits
so I know where to set my goals."

I believe in love, even at first sight.
Just not the eternal kind. And I love
her when she says things like that
because I created her. And when
you create, and the creation reaches
perfection, all you want to do--
destroy. Hammer to head. Crowbar
to Parkinson thighs. What's off limits?
What's off limits? What's off limits?
I can't stop.

Before I respond,
with adolescent delight
she tears me open by the pearl snap.
She lifts her arms up.
Surrender? No. She's a sycamore.
I'm the wind.

Body bare and body scattered,
congregate at the inosculation
of her trunks. She's a sycamore.
I'm the wind.

Wavering.
Leafless.
***-addled.
And the breeze doesn't do it.
And the seasons don't affect it.
Gale force insanity.

I climb her branches.
Beard wet with her.
She wipes her off.

I climb her branches.
I can't stop.

Grows into me.
Trunks entrap.
Elevated, she.
And I, well, I

stumble.

Hit the wall.
Concrete, everything.
I press her against it
so hard, she turns to waste
and passes through.
I press her against it
so hard, I can't stop.

Autumn acorn fingertips,
a river emptying to ocean,
and she asks,"Is this off limits?"
as she turns me sharply
and my back collides with the wall.
"Is this off limits?" she asks as she
pounds her head into mine.
"Is this off limits?" she asks as she
claws my face.
"Is this off limits?" she asks as she
licks to heal.
My will says yes.
My flesh says no.

I can't stop.

Love happens at random moments in time,
her chemical pheromones mingling with mine.
It is forever spontaneously combustible,
everlastingly irrational, and irresistble.

It happens to me, and to her simultaneously,
often it sneaks up unreasonably erroneously.
Wrapped in a perfect breast full of intoxication,
and supple red juicy lips of inosculation.

Inoculating my impaired brain to fight off reason,
her drunk tongue in my ear ultimately pleasing.
Her unseen warm places so wickedly entice me,
her cool intrepid breath so willingly invites me.

The bright stars radiate from her musical eyes,
like elaborate pyrotechnics on the 4th of July.
She has questions to answers I already bought,
feels subliminal messages I already thought.

Love; its that strange apple we've tasted before,
locked deep within our emotional repertoire.

I feel our arms they're intertwining
inosculation through the years
I want your heart to beat erosion
armored from my salt and tears
They say its all apart of process
we all have to pay our dues
I was scraping off the mosses
and broke off some bits of you

here it comes
I hide it all
for another day
scratch and scrawl
crumpled paper *****
just thrown and tossed away
I'm so small
but I have time
so much more to gain
I may fall
but know my call
the one and only protégé

tear the heart off of my sleeve
tissue deep under your nail
you snatched it up, scratched it
threw it down, and watched it flail
desperate chambers
pumping restless but alas to no avail
my breast is empty, yet its tempting
my innards set to sail

here it comes
I hide it all
for another day
scratch and scrawl
crumpled paper *****
just thrown and tossed away
I'm so small
but I have time
so much more to gain
I may fall
but know my call
the one and only protégé

are you hollow are you gasping?
are you just like me?
a beached whale thrashing
rolling 'round in debris
no you are different
a tiny treasure I adore
perfect pearl shining big and bright
washed right next to me ashore
how rare it is to find such a tool amongst the trash
but was this jewel made of parasite or lonely grain of sand?

here it comes
I hide it all
another day
scratch and scrawl
crumpled paper *****
just thrown away
I'm so small
but I still have time
so much to gain
know my call
the one and only protégé