it's got that swing

I remember slowly skipping every other step hoping that I would run into you on the fourth...

Thu, 16 May 2013 23:49:00 -0400

I remember slowly skipping every other step

hoping that I would run into you on the fourth floor

on a tuesday or thursday afternoon.

I didn’t know it then, but that smile kept me coming back.

I scored yr digits and texted you on my shitty phone

that was by no means “smart”, but you were.

I liked that about you. I always have and I always will.

You keep my cogs turning and remind me that I’m not just another.

Windy beach days remind me of the sand-blasting we endured

to be alone together. In the dunes we jived, we really did.

Plan B: We ditch this hole and find another,

If someone comes by we just act like nothing happened.

We were lucky we were down-wind on that night.

Remember?

We were lying on anthills and suffocating colonies in the earth

and you asked if I loved you. I said “I think so”, but I really meant

“YES I LOVE YOU OKAY I REALLY REALLY REALLY LOVE YOU A LOT

BUT I’M SCARED AND I DONT KNOW WHAT LOVE IS

AND THE THINGS I LOVE SEEM TO DIE OR GO AWAY AND I REALLY

JUST WANT TO BE BY YOUR SIDE FOR THE REST OF FOREVER”.

RE: 6 years, 8 months, 5 days and 11 hours from here

Thu, 24 May 2012 02:35:20 -0400

You’ll awake to the sound of the dogs, who’s names you change just about quarterly. You drink that second cup of coffee, the catalyst to your carefully planned day. Before departure you will carry out a matured ritual consisting of a large breakfast, (vegan of course, you still love every animal almost as much as your dogs), accompanied by a third cup of coffee(last night you were awfully reluctant to retire), succeeded by a carefully devised list of things for me to do during the day (you were always a cartographer when it came to cooking up a different routine for me everyday, my scattered-brain thrives on that, you know).

You take the train to work and although it takes you some time to assimilate to public transport, you find sheer joy in people watching. I’m not with you to be the necessary cynic, but you conjure up dialogue for me regardless. You enjoy your alone time. After all, you do look forward to it every day more than anything else (save the meal I have reserved for you every night after you get home from work). As soon as you open the door you begin telling me about your day. Without even talk about the job, you skip straight to telling me about your commute. I treat the conversation like you’re pitching me your lastest script. I ask the questions you don’t think of and you respond to them refreshingly thoughtfully.

We treat ourselves to a glass of wine. Tonight the merlot, a stark difference from last night’s shiraz. We bounce ideas off each other for hours, you being a writer at heart, provide me with a view of life from a second lens. Imperative to stereoscopic vision you know. I mean, how can one truly see life from only one point of view? Sure, I might have some obscure ideas about things, but really, I’m just challenging your faith. It’s inspiring to see someone so passionate, so alive. I need someone like that around you know. Sometimes I may seem like a pessimist, I can be a downer sometimes, but I’ll still try to make you laugh. You always thought I had the strangest humor; It’s obvious in your crooked smiles, a contrast to when you really show your teeth. I always loved how you kept my wit on it’s toes, refining clever comments.

Our conversation wilts as our minds begin to wander. I can tell you need your sleep, as do I. On the way to our bedroom(which is also our living room/kitchen/storage room) we can’t help but gaze out the porthole at the cityscape, some ten miles from our apartment. I’m still in shock that I convinced you to move here.

I can’t think of anyone any more well suited to live in this studio apartment with me. The dogs keep it a mess, but keep the heating bill relatively low as they jump onto our king sized futon. They little ones name is still Atticus, right?

Apprehensive at first as always. Fumbling with paler parts, accidentally alabaster.

Fri, 18 May 2012 14:07:00 -0400

Apprehensive at

first

as always.

Fumbling

with

paler parts,

accidentally

alabaster.

houses half-ivy in a league of their own studying for community college exams and wishing on drunken...

Wed, 04 Apr 2012 14:30:36 -0400

houses half-ivy in a league of their own studying for community college exams and wishing on drunken snake eyes

condemning the soot on their suit draped over their constitution, albeit in hot pursuit of harvard admissions and

seems cataclysmic

as the scattered kids pick

and choose,

church or booze?

RE:Love Letter

Wed, 21 Mar 2012 22:10:07 -0400

As one looks past another

the other contemplates

and spies in the snow

all the others that extended

their holiday past due.

Red winged black bird

caught in the early thaw

waiting for breadcrumbs

and tap tap tapping

a familiar distress call

Waiting for the ice to

precipitate and the

poppies to bloom.

“Good afternoon Jim,” the greeter yells to a deaf man who is shaking hands with...

Thu, 01 Mar 2012 18:18:00 -0500

“Good afternoon Jim,”

the greeter yells to a deaf man

who is shaking hands with another

and calling after yet another.

He seems to know everyone and everything,

but forgot his shopping list.

“They’re cheaper if you buy two,”

a husband tells a wife

while thinking of his last marriage

and searching for his next.

“Hey! I know this song,”

a daughter tells her father about

a song too quiet to discern the words.

She’s heard this song before on an advert

for the cereal in an adjacent cart.

They don’t dance.

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