I’d like to hold my head beneath the water of youth
Drown myself as the chloranic waves washed over
Burning my throat
Tingling
Happiness, and the effervescent smell of sunscreen
Luscious, half forgotten years
Water of innocence
Water of peace
Cleansing me with its toxic malnourishment
Of hope, forgiveness
Love
Trifling and deliberate
Half forgotten, half begotten
Aimless
Timeless
Harlequin sunshine

She and me
Kick our legs over the cliff
Watching the water pound in steep
Crests of mist,
Awash the quaking stone.

Drinking through the daze
Withering and coastal
Happy with every day
that drips
And growing older
Sedimentary
Seeking the simple deaths of life.

And when we sang our songs to the flocks of gulls
And they called saline
Eating fishbones
Circling like biplanes
Above the coast
We wondered what wandrous
Raptors out ran the oilpan
And instead became this.

We eat our picnic meats
And settle down for a long daydream
Staring at the overcast blanket
Seeing streaks of Grey dispersed between
Feeling
Warm and a little bit loved by the sea.

Me and she
There was no stopping
Her questions, flying hot lead at my
Brain
Dripping gall juice inside the spleen
Infected and hungry
Waiting to engorge our final meal
A bunch of microscopes in the petri
Dished out and left to drift
Amongst the lapping waves.

Assuredly,
When those gulls flapped their lazy way
Heading down the coast
Searching for simple meals
And calling family in the sky
They wondered to god
about solitary
You and I
And just what was our deal?

You’re not the type
To tap along to the drumbeat I’ve started to embed on your bedroom wall in response to the melody that infuriates the inside of my head
Or the type to laugh at a reenactment I’ve foolishly performed from some commercial that was on the tv last week while we were out at the diner
You put more sugar in your coffee than I do; my coffee looks darker, but the cups themselves, identical

Our eyes both equidistantly tiresome
But thoughts; wandrous
Always on different wavelengths, different pages, different channels
Our thoughts veer off and I am curious to know what you think about
Because sometimes your eyes dig graves
Keeping low to the ground
The mutuality in eye contact faints and gets buried
Tucked under somewhere far,
but always seeking adventure, they meet up again

I don’t mind that you never go under both sheets
even though sometimes it creates space between us two
It doesn’t bother me that you didn’t acknowledge the dream I told you I had last night
Because I understand your eyes still feel like they hadn’t woken up
But I was barely awake too

I tried to get you to wake up
You love the taste of coffee,
But not my coffee.
You like the taste of sugar
Was I not sweet enough to create a sparkle in your eyes?