i could not help but wish we
watched white elephants
with sand pulled between our feet.
“the earth is burning”, yes, just
how we like it. our hair looks so good
in dry heat.
there is no do-over for tragedy
not even a martini would do
but there is always room for sin
to share, someone to choke
to tease the love out and end
us all, blinded in bliss.
I could build a palace out of clouds for you, less permanent than even sandcastles.
Transience and great labor make a mockery of monument, but no effort is too great.
I’m fishing for lovely words from deep in my aching mouth, but I find only freshly ground teeth and heinous tongue.
Still, I will build for you.
I am a bird, uncaged.
I spend all of my days trying to escape, but the safety of the brass bars traps my mind.
I find myself breaking my wings trying to find my way back to my metal prison.
Do I really crave the wind on my beak?
Have I been clipped too much to fly free?
Is the world moving too fast
for anyone else? I remember
gas selling for twenty-three cents
a gallon. Hamburgers were a quarter,
and a Coke cost a dime. What did we do
before we had cell phones? Was landing
on Boardwalk just a dream?
the tongue was made to testify
to speak when the promise comes protruding
to lay under oath with tastebuds required
a sommelier of mortal shells
distinguishing lustful contempt from
some mere, facetious contemplation
recording that infectious moment
when jarring spit becomes dulcet saliva
and your body beneath bends to my will.
before it blossoms. before it broods
and it breaks completely open.
i can’t put into words
how much i need to cry
hard in your arms
tears flood
feelings images memories
bleed together
my brother’s death
my love for you
your tears
your fear my love will die
my not knowing if i can be
the one you need
forever
we make love
i smoke a joint
but the cry
is the high
i need most
most of the time i want
to cry
i can’t
i know it’s not all my father’s fault
i help erect these blockades
i shut these floodgates
i know i’m supposed to stay strong
don’t show it
or no it’s okay now
fuck these tear ducts
swollen shut
put on elliot smith
put on velvet underground
cue the darkest days
with the drop
of a needle
cue that transcendent acid trip
the sweaty cocktail of tears
and summer rain
not knowing which is which
as my eyes brim with sky
holy water falls
everything is fluid
