Saturday, April 23, 2016




Over my shoulder I see you there,
glasses & crooked teeth,
in P.E. you stood next to me.
We talked for hours on our land line phones
about classes & annoying people,
awkwardly fitting in,
boys n' shit.
I was one of the few people 
you let over to your mom's apartment.
You were embarrassed but I liked it.
Your mom dated a man I never saw smile 
so we always cut past them instinctively 
& went upstairs to your room.
We went on aol instant messenger
the high school of online.
We tested social waters together.
We shared growing up at this point in time.
I liked the carpet & your cramped computer desk.
I liked feeling an energy not found in the very tidy & pristine 
because my home felt like that too; 
comfortable, not immaculately clean
but genuine & sweet.
We went to different schools 
but you still hid a birthday gift in my locker.
You shared real moments with me 
that could only be a part of my experience.
You helped with the ache of responsibilities
& I thank you for your presence,
but when I turn away from my shoulder 
& this moment of recollection,
away from these memories,
& I look at your face now,
that is not what I see.
There is no apartment,
no energy like that.
I literally can't afford your time
no matter if he's loving or anything.
Your clothing & accessories have to have brands.
You have to have.
Love is money.
You are possessed by possessions,
your goals are no longer what I expected.

Sunday, April 3, 2016

I imagine when dogs smell something
the scent tells a story;
in a matter of seconds 
my parents three dogs are introduced,
the children who hugged me at work,
the sauce slathered burrito I ate for lunch,
the inside of my car,
my spilled coffee & conversation spit,
the books I opened,
a flash of life inhaled & explained to a color blind perspective.
The more their nostrils read my presence, 
the more detailed my life becomes.
Even after a sticky adventure
swirling down the gutter where your mind just went,
or a tired afternoon I've carried with me all day,
the bones of my story remain 
to be mentally chewed on.
Humans do not smell as well 
but more selectively.
The deeper I breathe, the more I recall.
Something in the breeze melts a feeling over me.
A memory calls to me through
the laundry
the stove
the marina 
your skin 
& then suddenly 
a time in my mind is painted vividly by my heart. 

At a certain point I've overthought it;
I'll have to apologize,
I'll need to explain.
I've let something slip too long
& there it is, 
inflated with potential 
climbing away from me 
up & over clouds
as the string slides through my fingers,
nothing as my excuse,
just oops.
Fuck.
Oh well.
Sorry I did nothing about this! 
I took so long 
because it got increasingly awkward 
to think about how much time passed.
I'd rather forget I'm accountable
& watch wasted breaths 
float away.