I saw a photograph of you
As a girl of seventeen
I thought about myself back then
If we had met, how would it have been?

Youthful lives in flux
The future just a haze
Steered by chance, fate, luck
To make it through the maze

So many couples set up home
Promise not to stray
Then exercise their right to roam
And throw it all away

I guess we'll never know
But here we are today
This is how we are right now
And how we want to stay

your words make me
ache as far as a torch
stretched between murky-
blank pages

do not wait to scrawl your
truths until heavy resignation
creeps over my head like
a dark shawl

do not wait -
                         - I miss
                         everything and nothing
                         and (god
                         **** it)

the philosopher was right in
assuming a search for completion
leads only to a sort of frustrated
compassionate silence,
                                           so
                                      tired of being tired of growing
                                      weary with assumptions,
                                      mad libs of the spirit, only
                                      fill in the line with whatever
                                      you dream might be,  


              no


let me know you, the real
uncensored and true
(I can love) you

I feel like a child being spelled at
to keep the F-I-L-I-B-U-S-T-E-R for
adult ears only but even though
I admit the fact
                           - I know next to nothing
my heart desperately
wishes to know
you, everything.

there's something to be said about
the time it takes for words to
formulate, make their way
all the way down to the tiptips of our tontongues,
I savor the ringing silence that comes
after the bitter ones leave, the after-taste of
arguments and the residue left from things I didn't mean.

if I could I'd pour nectar down my throat and
speak in whispers only in whispers and then
quiet quiet
quiet
down, I'd
whisper,
quiet down.

Corduroy
by far
is the sexiest fabric

Zipper wisp you thighs a bit faster
You cat-call of body language

I wanna hear you coming

You are not a denim ******
Not cotton soft

My hands are rough
Let me feel your texture
Of parallel lines that go all the way up

Let me lose your button

You can find it later
Keep your innocence like that bear
In that children’s book you might read
To your own kids someday

Corduroy is ugly
So are we

Has texture
So do we

Is made from finely twisted fibers
Like DNA

Corduroy makes me sweat
Literally

And figuratively
If
We were trapped under a blanket of it
And could not tell the difference between

Scar tissue and fabric
Hair and fabric
I will have to bite you to notice the difference

Unless you holler like corduroy
A sound you could beat me with

Then we would just be a transcendental blanket
Of
This should be burned later

So
When I tell you
I think you’re **** like corduroy

It’s a compliment

It's a shame being
sensitive.
               wouldn't it be easier to
                 just be like everyone you
                 consider trapped between
                  their teenage years?

                no no NO
                no NO
                NO no !

                no thank
                you, where
                I think is
                far from
                perfect but
                it's mine.

This isn’t so much giving up
As it is the shedding of weight

He kneels down in a bedroom that isn’t his
He sleeps on borrowed furniture
Elbows on the edge of a twin bed
He wishes there was a body there
Any body

There are some things he needs to let go

There is always going to be a girl with your heart
And your veins wrapped around her fingers
Curling up her arms
Like vines on a trellis

Let her go

He knows that being good looking is 20 percent physical
The rest is all you

Sometimes weird things make him sad
That’s cool
Anything your body does without your permission
Is natural
You’re human
Get over it

Get over
The cancerous residuals
And the fear of silence
Between two people
When all you want to do is stare

Stare if you want to
Be charming
He knows he can be charming
If he smiles right
If remembers to be honest

Be honest with me
Lonely boy
Fearful stranger to self
Little lover of the things that get left behind

Admire the broken patchwork of your poetry

You are not a naysayer
You are a yes man

Yes
Hesitant kisses
Yes
Knee buckle trembles
Yes
Loving with the lights on
With the fire burning
Say yes to the breaking

You are not being broken
You are refining your badly built artwork
Molding your eyes less somber

Do not be somber sweet child

Stand like gravity is your slave
Bow down to nothing

Unless you want to

There are some things that require kneeling

Your knees are sacred
Use them only to make things better
To show honor
To shed weight

He knows this is not giving up
As much as it is shedding enough weight
So he can stand again

i said “im not going to marry you”

and you said “oh. do you want to get married?”

and i said “…no”**

i was standing in the shower in someone else’s house when i told you i couldnt be with you

and you said “please don’t do this”

and i said “i’m sorry”, like i had to

and i said “goodbye,’ like i had to but i didn’t have to i didn’t do it because i had to i did it because

there’s an itch

you get in your feet

when you realize that all you have to do to be happy is, do

what makes you happy

and i decided i wanted that more than you.

last night when it rained i remembered what it sounded like

when it rained on your tin roof

and how you slept with your breathing shallow,

in case your grandma with dementia walked in and

called you by your grandfather’s name again. i remembered

the day you put the latch on your door to keep her out.

i bet you kept it there to keep me out too.

if i were still there

i’d be riding my bike to you now,

down that long stretch of littered sidewalk,

past that path where you smoked joints behind people’s yards at night

into the driveway by

your house, frame light enough to be carried away by wind

but the wind came

and it blew me away instead.

if i were still there i’d say happy anniversary, i love you so much

if i were still there it would be a lie

but i’m here, so it’s not, because

i can only love you from here, seeing what a fool you are

forgiving you anyway

so happy valentine’s day to your aforementioned  buddy

and happy valentine’s day to the high school that almost killed you

and happy valentine’s day to whatever music you’re making

whether its metal,

or blues,

happy valentine’s day to the safeway cashier

who knew what we were up to and the school theater whose floor we slept on

and the kisses snuck between sleeping bags

and the arms that for three years were my home

in your bed, by your star wars curtains

light every morning, breakfast with your mom

who added me on facebook

and could never spell my name

february last year i was in italy rinsing you out of my mouth

this year i’m in israel eating salt and reading old emails

taking a bath in an empty apartment

wondering when

you’re going to cut your hair.