Talking

You bring it out of me,
make me talk like a poet
on these paper wristband nights,
then you wash my mouth out
with the box of soap
I’m standing on.

Noticing

The way your mouth 
twitches when you think,
the turquoise in your rings.
Yes, everything’s beautiful
when I’m noticing.

July

Floating in the cool warm water
of Grand Lake O' the Cherokees,
fireworks crack, glow, and sizzle 
above me as I rest 
in an edible’s afterglow.

Hot bright ash falls around me 
or maybe instead my body 
is being flung through the stars.

I become less separate,
just another molecule,
a 2001 space baby
in amniotic hyperdrive.

I Lie Down

I lie down 
and my camera, paints 
and passport lie untouched too 
while a great emptiness passes 
through the center of me. 

I wait for dreams to come 
fill me with meaning,
for my unconscious to speak
its ideas into images 
my ego can understand. 

So I text you again
with the idea that you
might be worth waiting for
and another idea 
that I’ve been wrong before.

I come by yours
and we dance the dance
of interest then disinterest, 
the turns and steps and twists 
of interest then disinterest. 

My black boots,
clumsy and sideways, 
scuff against your white shoes. 
I kiss you and you don’t 
quite kiss back. 

I squint to see
if I can find myself 
mirrored within you, 
some reflective symmetry
seeing back into me.

I’d ask my friends
what all this meant,
but no one ever falls 
my way when I push
them off the fence.

I drive home on dark
humid highways of mayjunejuly,
and if you can’t see my mirrors
I can’t see me coming
around here again.

Mine

I want you open and raw
and mine. I want you alone
and naked and mine. I want you
under my hands asking for more
and mine.

Hair

Hair of the dog, your dog,
it follows me already
across my shirt, my couch
my car and I don’t mind.

Hair on your head
on my shoulder
on your loveseat,
softly between my fingers.
It’s coconut and I didn’t know
I loved coconut.

Hair on my chest, my arms,
my legs, I hadn’t thought of it
much until I saw how it met
your skin under fluorescent lights
through Venetian blinds.

You Should See Me

You should see me 
in a tailwind, cresting a hill 
on my bike, shoulders sailing, 
light in my saddle, grass 
clippings on my cheeks, 
and an involuntary smile. 

You should see me 
forget the limits of what 
I deserve, accepting rich
goodness without 
embarrassment. 

You should see me
now.

I Was Burning

I was burning for something that felt
like flying, so I settled for fake and
we went indoor skydiving.

I was driving with my eyes closed,
the way I play poker, praying
for lucky turns.

I was empty except dreams,
where I wrote endlessly for the
soon-to-be-dead-to-me and the
already-dead-to-me.

I was always putting words
in your mouth one way
or another.

I was so afraid of being
misunderstood, I used an
analogy for everything.

I was the prick
in your broken heart
measuring contest.

I’m not any of that now.