Wednesday, March 24, 2010


she moved to this city too much in love

with places she'd been

her eyes, sparkling like the collections 

of a magpie

saw me in different bars

(she can't remember where)

this city

was a heart

that she moved through

was a t shirt

she sweat through

during dishwasher shifts 

that cracked her hands 

like the binding

on some book of poetry 

she is a memory-

like the one 

where i'm in the basement of that Christian private school

in my gym clothes

six years old

wearing those velcro shoes i always fished out of

the lost and found 

and i'm holding my prism

my friends, circled around me

they just thought it was a piece of glass

until i told them about refracted light

and then they all wanted to hold it

because it was special

was a gateway

made me important

but irene was bigger than me and maybe i wanted her 


a big sized kid ally

so i let her hold it


and her clumsy big sized kid hand 

dropped it

and the concrete floor accomplice

severed that parallelogram in two

she apologized

i said it was okay

and the kids went to gym 

but i stared at it on the ground and pouted 

and i think

that was the day i learned about loss

because i put the pieces back in 

its velvet pouch until i got home

and sobbed and told my daddy

and he bought me a new one

and i thanked him but

i didn't hold it the same way, i

think i figured

well, the world has buttloads of prisms

i guess

maybe in a silo somewhere

run by bill nye

you learn things at five

and four

and six

that surface later like a revelation


poetry slams and show and tell

poggs and poker chips

clip-on ties and trust issues

drinking problems and imaginary friends

poo jokes and well... poo jokes

its old news

and nothing hurts like the first time

she spoke to me 

in my language

from 4, or 6, or 5

i know cuz she told me she

learned its meter

measured distance

to mouth

to pulse

to having me at hello

she had big kid sized confidence

and adjectives

and i figured maybe she could protect me

she told me once

oh, she told me a lot of things

but once in a poem

on a stage

she called me the destination

and i imagine 

a road map

like the 23rd birthday card

she used to tell me i was her moon

her watch

her jam




and so many miles away


you, child of the sun

i should have listened

should have remembered physics

and known lightyears and einstein


calculated two 

weeks to open 

and close me

by fifty-two ache like an eye

like a scared shoe

like a shitty patrick swayze inspired ceramic bowl 

used as an ashtray

should have listened to your metaphors

instead of eating them

like jam

like punctuation

i am not on that map

not yours

or the new king james version

none of us are

even if maybe


there's a sachse, texas

and i have the t shirt

thought i could keep 


if i danced for you

like Cecilia 

or Biggie

but you are palpitating

through this city

that i work for

Little artery 

shuttling blood cells

with chemistry

oxygenating the tired--O, my love

i traded with you too

because that's what i do;

a little O and O --> 

for your CO2 baby


always wish you had let me

[circulate:]inside you too

tasting your language

with the many tongues

of my 


but if its not tonight

well then

thats okay-

we are immortal 

under a microscope


remember how i took you here on our first


pretty sure i didn't know what a double of whisky was

or why i should drink one

before that night

you said it felt like you'd known me


and maybe thats the only place we'll ever balance

equilibrium, baby

remember how i took you home after and tried to make

osmosis with our lips 

you and your impermeable membrane turned me down easy

as your algorithms

so i put on october sky

one of like 5 movies i had on vhs

and we fell asleep talking about lesbians or something

(little artery) (big spoon) 

(little spoon) (big smile)

and then 

face / to /       face

occupying a fraction of a bed

that will always feel like a velvet pouch

in my palm

when its gone again

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