“This is happening, this is real! “she screamed as if the whole neighborhood was a part of the argument. I had the urge to laugh at the irony that she was allowed to follow her heart if it meant mine were to be broken, but my stomach instantly laughed right back at me as it began to sink and burn. For months the ache had been growing with every missed phone call and my every half-assed...
The pitcher shook and hissed as if to say, “I’m almost there!” My worn hands, eager and accustomed to the intensity, the anticipation, and the pay off, twirled the nozzle shut. I wiped my hands clean, And carried on with my life.
Love In 2011
“You did bring one didn’t you?” I crossed my toes and scrambled nervously through my backpack. Her eyes were closed, and she must have known that mine were not. Smirking, “it really is better this way.”
Love In 2010
“Is everything alright?” I asked the question but I knew the answer. This obviously was not going to work. I drank my tea alone and thought about how I was in love with someone else.
Love In 2009
“You really can be an asshole. Did you know that?” I didn’t have anything to say so I put on my clothes and walked back across town in the snow. I gave her a call an hour later when I got home and she was crying and my fingers were blue.
Love in Late 2008
“Can we put on some music?” she asked and I put on an old favorite. Afterwards, we kept so close in that empty house with an old flannel shirt- our only cover for the night. I haven’t listened to that song since.
Love in 2007
“How does this thing go on?” I shrugged and fumbled. I was never a very good student. Eventually, we gave up And I got her off. We spent the rest of the evening Eating sweet potatoes and watching reality television.
Love In 2008
“You know this is illegal in Georgia, right?” She laughed, I gasped. We broke the law on that dock in so many ways and I will never see her again.
We had all our beliefs, tucked away tight in denim pockets and canvas satchels. We let others know our secrets, with our shallow breath and racing hearts. I was asked by mother why things always fall apart. Even those two whom we look often lack the answers we seek.
It's always something
Whatever it may be, it’s always something. If it a stepdad, If it’s cancer treatments, If it’s a job you can’t leave, If it’s someone you just can’t love- no matter how hard you try- If it’s medical bills four years old, If it’s nothing more than a bad first impression It’s always something
I no longer wanted my beliefs. The icons and fables I was so used to as a child are now as alien to me as some tribal language or primitive culture. I was not, and still insist that I am not, angry about what I was taught as a child. The religion of my parents reflects their most earnest beliefs, or perhaps its the other way around. It’s hard to tell with these kinds of things. Most...
You awoke from the same old dream and recognized your room after a moment of confusion. Your god was standing in your backyard, Picking tomatos from the garden. He was carrying a paper lantern. His feet were twisted and his hands shook wildly. He told you he was hungry. You never spoke a word to anyone. An eternity passed you by and you smoked your last cigarette and said your last...
It was a familiar feeling and there were familiar moments, but you were a woman unlike any I had known before. The strands of your hair, ever-changing like the tide, felt soft against the nerve-endings in my fingertips. Your lips, those misleading lips, moved in ways that related to me, “you are not first.” And for that, I felt blessed. Certainly I cannot forget your eyes, those two...
Sunday by the Artificial Lake
I lit a cigarette and watched I watched with wanting I watched with nervousness I watched with that old familiar feeling. She caught me watching and sang She sang rising melodies She sang old soul songs written yesterday She sang for me, or at least I hope that she sang for me. The wind carried her voice and cooled my skin. The trees gave us shade And the sun warmed me again. I put out my...
October 20, 2009
The fallen trees lie like spent bodies, shivering in the warm afterglow And you float slowly in the air like the fourth or fifth snowflake of the year. As graceful as the first and as underrated as the morning dew on my lips when I’ve passed out drunk where the falling trees lie like spent bodies, shivering in the warm afterglow. -October 20, 2009
There, Underneath the Creaking of Bedsprings
There, Underneath the creaking of bedsprings, where our skin cells finally met once more like the settled sugar, stirred again in your lukewarm tea. While cleaning my room I remembered that habit of yours. The constant sweeping of dog hair, marijuana ashes, and skin cells. There, where they collected underneath the creaking of bedsprings.