Saturday, June 20, 2009

hey you

I remember you with Jim Beam
in hand,
ready to pop my cherry
just like I wanted.

Blue eyes, dark brown hair
sculpted features
you talked about nothing
while we drank from the bottle.

Upstairs, we "did it"
on my futon; don't remember
what I said, maybe "I love you."
It's possible.

I do remember you said
"I don't love you" as you
literally ran down the stairs,
out to your station wagon.

At 18, I thought it was love;
I never heard from you again,
and here you are:
(the internet's a scary place

Chiropractor practice with your
wife, losing your hair,
same eyes.
Can't help but wonder
if you even remember.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

I'm not that screwed up

caught up in crap
and particles and

I unfurl unleash unbutton
unzip undo

miscellaneous vices
(love sex too much,
don't want to be ignored)
keep me tied, fettered
to the floor

there are factory parts,
(my toes and my elbows
get in the way)
and it's hard to get
out of so much packaging

but it's too bad the sky
won't open up
and swallow you

meditation on men

You caught me meditating
but I couldn't do it
hard enough to get you out
of my sponge of a heart.

You didn't realize it meant
thorns and vines and prickly
pear feelings.

I never had much control
over my own thoughts
and listening to you
was like listening
to the last man

that caught my attention
in a crowd of bones and
skin and fat growing around my
all-encompassing waist.

Though I'll be meditating
on the last one
that got away or
never looked at me that

my tattooed arms,
the flowers growing from
my shoulders mean
I still won't wilt.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Needmore Road

You peer into the darkness
listening to this river;
"It's really high tonight,
way over the banks."

But you keep staring at it
until the sun comes up,
like it's gonna go away

talking about the tree
that used to be over there
growing above the water,
how you climbed it.

About walking through the river,
about being there with
Michael and Holly

and how this mountain laurel,
(you point), and that rhododendron
and that kudzu weren't there before.

You tell me how you signed a petition
to keep them from paving the road
next to this river.

And how you rode bikes 6 miles
down this road with your neighbor.

How you want to stay here
get so drunk here you
sleep on a hollow log.