Monday, April 5, 2010

The Order In Which It Was Received


I stalked you last night.
On Google, anyway.
And Facebook.
And in a dream involving you and a camouflage sleeping bag.

It’s the best I can do.
I know you don’t understand.
Why we stopped.
Why we never began.
Why even though he isn’t good,
I need to be.

You should know
I didn’t chose him over your haunting eyes
and witty banter
and the way your shoulder always smelled
like my favorite soap
whenever I cried on it.

I chose him
because he was there first.
How do you explain
timing and expect
someone to wait?

I stalked you last night.
I watched you move on.
Wondering why I didn’t beg you
to wait for the day
when the last straw will break.
When I can finally
be happy with you
and live with myself,
too.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Save Me

Catch me before the crash,
Before the tumblingspinningsinkingdown
Into love
When he comes round.

Slow the heartbeat,
Cool the skin,
Moisten the throat
That clenches in

When the door knocks
And he’s behind it.
Take the thoughts and
Quick rewind them.

Temper the breathing
Chest rising
and
falling
too quickly,
too easily,
too obviously,
when he says
“I was at McCabe’s tonight
and thought I’d drop by.”

Save me from the eyes
The eyes the eyes the eyes
The tumblingspinningsinkingdown
quicksand of eyes

Save me from the eyes
That get me bait me want me.
Save me from the sighs
Save me from the empty bed
And
inevitable
goodbye.

..................................................................

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

I Thought That Was You


I watch your mouth moving,
Sound vibrations traveling I’m sure
but nothing my ears translate.
You’re reminiscing and I’m confused.
We’re not lost loves
Or even friends catching up.

My favorite restaurant of all time.
He’s late again
And she’s on her way.
You saw me from the bar.
Coming over to say hi is very different than reminiscing.

Yes. Yes, of course I remember Jack.
We picked him out together after all.
I remember the carpet and my ruined Manolo slingbacks
and how he loved cheetos.

Oh? You passed the bed and breakfast the other day.
The one where we lied and told them we’d just eloped.
Yes, I do remember how warm the room was.
I try but my smile doesn’t look as real as yours.

It stings a little
when you laugh about the
time we fought
and I locked you out
in only your boxers.

You lean over
so serious
and whisper
“I've missed you. We should talk again,”
as heels click clack closer.
And then, “You remember Kate, don’t you?”

I nod.
She pulls your sleeve
away and towards the bar
where you belong.

And I know
I’ll never eat here again.

................................................................

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

It's Never Enough With You

It’s not enough
anymore
To watch you with her
And talk about the playoffs
Or snowfall totals
Or “the time that we…”

It’s not enough to bump
You with my shoulder,
Or hug you loose and platonic
Like an aunt.

It’s not enough to
Know your mind
And muscle tone
And ways
But not your heart.

It’s not enough
To banter playfully
But carefully
To keep it light
When dark is
How I feel.

It’s not enough
To just be friends
I was wrong
I'm sorry
It’s not enough
to make it right

.........................................................................

Monday, March 22, 2010

Male Bonding


I’ll run out and get your damn beer
Not to impress your friends
who showed up
invading my couch
and fridge
and Sunday
To watch another flat screen event involving
swearing and
sweating and
scoreboards.
Only to leave empty pizza boxes
and toilet paper rolls.
Exiting with bear hugs and lame offers
“If you ever get tired of him, I’m available.”
Not likely.
Sure, I’ll run out now.
And keep quiet.
And make nice.
Because later
When ESPN replays the footage
and gives the final standings
you’ll be thanking me properly.

................................................................

Sunday, March 21, 2010

My Favorite Thing

If you must know,
I like your height best.
The way I’m forced to stretch
Up and against you to reach
My arms around your shoulders.

Or better still,
Is the way you brush your lips
across my neck
until you find the spot that sends the chills.

Although sometimes,
sometimes,
it’s how you twirl my hair
while you’re whispering
in my ear,
singing your newest
favoritest
song
ever.

It’s nothing against your hands,
large
and firm
and sure
to move where I will them.
Maybe,
just maybe,
it’s the way they ask under the covers.
The way your touch does the talking,
Fingertips begging for what you want.

No. Not that.
Not even that.
It’s your sigh.
It’s that way you
quiver and groan,
and embarrass me
into ecstacy.

.......................................................................................................

This Time

This time,
I’ll let it go.
I’ll remember you
made me lasagna
and rubbed my back
and brought me white daisies
after my trip.

This time,
I’ll forget.
Because you made that
silly face with the crooked
grin and rolling eyes.

I’ll ignore it
and pay attention
instead
to the way you smile
when you come in the room
and find me there,
and offer to wash my back,
and lift things that you
pretend are too heavy for me.

This time,
we’ll go on
and nothing will ever be said.
Because I know what
you meant when you
told me you had
been waiting for me
for decades.

This time,
I’ll forgive
because
it’s just an anniversary
after all
and maybe
that’s gift enough.

.......................................................................................................