I was going to get coffee, now knees to chin in my dorm closet. about a mile away it happened, this new normal we pretend no one can affect.
someone with a gun
I hold my knees and have church in my dorm room Mass for the shooting as another shooting amasses another day of weather a chance of bullets from cocked clouds and another inch crumbled off the coastline, hands of the ocean waving a higher hello to the sun;...
My right earlobe still aches just a little from your teeth. Thoughts of you hit me like diamond moon through the coal of clouds. I've been tugging on it all day. You know you have me on your side until you ask me to go? -
Absolutely until then, and only then will I spare you the fact of your own beauty. I never would have guessed you don't know about it. You're like a wolf unaware of his fur. My Rougarou.
stumbles and vicious headaches want to snack on this head but I need it for these tests - still haven't been able to sing freely for you. It isn't nerves. Not quite. My nerves are dangerous but easily avoided like dead snakes of power lines, skin shed on the street - you see them, you can walk away.
But I don't know what it is I'm now reckoning with. ...not true. I do. The same insecurity piggybacking me hot air in my head - when I fret and fucking fret about each word I've said. Not...
Goddamn, my lover, I will never shut up about you.
I remember how tentative I was before you ever touched me with that fine fucking freedom. Parking like a sucker in one of the pay lots and following a brick wall to the coffee shop you mentioned - "I'm here," I said - in a minute, then, you poked your head from a door hiding in the café's shadow already naked so easily displaying you - cute little ass leading me to the hot tub
it taps just above my collarbone - silver clip of collar "o" - where only the worthiest leash might go. It taps, tells me to stand up straighter and reminds me that if I'm not at least gently smiling I'm forgetting something.
Grace - though it is not at all graceful for me to have noticed this - my grace is growing, trailing where I go like ripples from rowing over a river of glass.
The first magnolia flowers cracked open today. Giant eggshells serving stamen sunny side up. Oh, and it was. But I could not stay for breakfast. The day, one like this, called me, its voice in the gold light. I rushed, it seemed to you, out while you cooked your own hash browns, pouting. I am still unashamed about that. Because inside gets so cold - tile floors are harsh. even the gift of A/C bullies me at night; this time of year - Oh, Louisiana, my first Dear -...
not that y'all are easy - thank you darlings for your fresh charm.
for showing me how fun masochism can be - how it can seep past clear curtains and under the door, pushing out steam! - and thank you for making me a little badass.
college kid, tutor, aspiring teacher, camp counselor - I sign up to get my patience kicked regularly! and thanks to you it need not even bruise, nor I grit my teeth. I can do things like hop out of cozy for my lovers ...
How fucking, fucking sweet the memory of you inside - really more your sounds, your tongue not wanting to stay in your mouth - you pretty monster of mine, your giggles when you cum! - I think besides just being a fact of the earth as any person, any place, anything - to me, in our moments, you're made of all the nicest things
like the sand pouring out of my sundried overalls. the ones you said make my tits look good. (correct.)
ah, I feel beautiful all the time but you do it to me special. ...
allow me to squeeze the vodka from my head so I can love you with some grace. now is unabashed like the angry black waves just listening to the wind without a human kind of ear
and free, too, from fear. except I don't know why I did this sweetness to myself. And I wouldn't want you to see me drunk. Though it is prettiness spilling, sloshing hot over mug edges, it might burn you.
but I'm stumbling to another Tom Waits album that puts your voice in my ear. singing brave ...