true life: people like my hair more than they like me
google searches from november 2013
i wonder if you know that the same route
to your house in the daylight is different at
night. the road turns to currents and the
buildings are coral blooming in their lawns,
the sand gardens. the headlights of cars
are tiny fish catching the edges of mirrors
in the water’s light, bleeding white and gold
that fogs the windshield, an ethereal tide of
loss and shadow and muffled music.
i wonder if you know the second time i went
to see you i couldn’t swim fast enough. you
make me feel lightheaded, you turn my lung
over in your palm until it becomes a windpipe,
you smother my piccolo heart until it pierces a
hole through the sky with its sound. i’m spinning
out through my ears for you, rushing to a beat
with drunken feet, wide eyed and slick bird winged
with a panicked pulse. it was still warm and i guess
the weather tricked me into thinking it was a
temperature my kind could survive in, for you.
i wonder if you know when i saw you in the
doorway you looked more brilliant than all
the shimmering roadsigns from my best
unmapped memory, uncharted like your
wildflower stem wrists. i’d like to get lost
in your underwater mind, wade in the
swampy sadness with my fingers
twisted in algae. we’re not that different,
i wish you knew. you are more magnificent
than every hello and goodbye carved
from any mouth, soft or difficult, shy or
unabashed. when you saw me take my
steps your smile curved like a castle
letting down it’s drawbridge. how did
i convince myself that was a good thing?
i knew you were waiting for something.
i knew you were waiting for someone, but
i never would have guessed all you waited
for from me was for me to pass you by,
to get out of your sight so you could watch
the street roll and pull rain from the overhead
lights into ripples that reminded you of a
different time, a better time, a time before me
when you were happy. but the past isn’t always
as good as we remember it, i hope you know
that. i never would’ve said that to your face
because it was too beautiful to deface with
such a tar-slung sentence.
i wish i was a writer.
i wish i could sing.
i wish i could have done something, anything
to be the ribbon sent across the sky flying
like a star stained lighthouse beacon,
one you couldn’t forget, wrapping you
up on the glassy surface, keeping you
afloat in the present, banishing dark
underneath, sweeping away sharp
rocks, shark teeth.
a love letter
everything is sort of weird and sad and i want to sleep next to you