The road gets cold; there’s no spring in the meadow this year
And I’m a new chicken, clucking open hearts and ears
Oh such a prima donna, sorry for myself
But green is also summer, and I won’t be warm
Till I’m lying in your arms
(The Weepies, Gotta Have You)
Give me romance
Give me moon sun rain endless afternoon
Give me letters and longing
Give me waves of neon pleasure
Give me chocolate wine blood-laced meat
Soak me saturate me taste me
Watch me do yoga on the kitchen floor
Feel my body arch to meet yours – navel towards spine
Connection of flesh muscle bone nerves
Spasm at the slightest mention of your name
(scribbled last night)
(photo taken in Brookfield NH 10.31.11)
We’ll sit on the front porch
The sun can warm my feet
You drink your coffee with sugar and cream
I’ll drink my decaf herbal tea
Pretend we’re perfect strangers
And that we never met
“My you remind me of a man I used to sleep with,
That’s a face I’ll never forget”
And you can be Henry Miller, and I’ll be Anais Nin
Except this time it’ll be even better
We’ll stay together in the end.
(Jewel, Morning Song)
I decided I like the smooth shape of your shoulders best
Your beard catches droplets of water from the shower
I prefer you unencumbered
You unearth my deepest laughter
And now I no longer feel haunted.
So soon, I imagine a maybe life with you.
Acres of meadow. At least three dogs and five cats.
We’ll always have beer so good it tastes like honey down our glad throats
You’ve got eyes like beach glass
I trust your heart, and your soul, when you hold me.
Handle with care.
I am not from here,
my hair smells of the wind
and is full of constellations,
and I move about this world
with a healthy disbelief.
And I approach my days and my work
with vaporous consequence
a touch that is translucent,
but can violate stone.