16 Year Flashback

They perched themselves on the balcony,
screaming for deserved relevance.
"We made you who you are."

Like back in 1996, when we wished to be
older, so we could drive to the video store.
To save the ones we love.

They planted the rocks
that lined the path
that we chose.

And we thought we could forgive them.

But they want justification. "We
were right. Now dig our masterpiece."
And dig we shall. 'Til we discover

their meaning. Their purpose. Yes,
she should be nude. And yes, there should be
more blood. But that is not their way.

In a time of compromise,
they offer none.
We should give them money.

Support. Forget what we think and remember

what we knew: The smell of pavement
in late April. Eating a melting cone
on the hood of a borrowed car. Taking

things less seriously, when finding them
deadly so. We should talk on the phone
more often. Send letters of love

when the moon is down.
Learn the art of
the sleepover.

Check closets for ghosts before bedtime.

I Have Seen Your Form

And we pass like we don't know
each other, which is sad, 'cos
we used to think that we did.
There are too many words,

but we only use Hello. Sam saw it coming

from a block away. Berlin made him
sharp. I have never been on
holiday and that is unfortunate.

Why can't we stop for a minute
so I can look at your boyfriend?
I didn't catch his face, or

the cut of his jib. I don't know if he's

righteous. Or good or clean. Don't
I get a say in the matter?
It feels like I should, even though

it's undeserved. You looked beautiful

and healthy, but smiled like you hid
something underneath. Not a sadness,
but a lie. And I want to get inside you.

To find an answer.

But we would have to stop
for a minute. And I don't
see that as an option.

Carry It With You

Traded ocean views for a haunted house.
She seems quite content
with her decision to leave. "I don't hear

the music anymore, floating across the bay

from the restaurant". She called on me
to visit once, when our heads were buzzing.
Loud and light. We walked onto the porch

and wondered about the neighbors. "I don't smoke

but I do tonight," she said. And I told
her how funny it was to be there.
I had wanted to know her, even before I tied

her to a song title. And the lyrics

were unkind, but true, and I thought
you would appreciate the gesture. You did.
We like to play silly games, a back and forth,

'cos we don't know what we mean. Or want.

Four-Letter Words

"Home" is the most vulgar and misued word
like "ironic" or "love".
It doesn't mean what it used to.

He told me: Meat is murder, while he shined
a new pair of boots. 'Cos there's no substitute
for fine Italian leather. I was told to take him

out tonight, 'cos he don't live there anymore.

She Is A Lightning Bolt

She says, Now is not the time. And I don't know
what she means. Is it the weather? The day or hour

we've chosen to meet? I guess it doesn't matter.
Because the time is not now. But if not now, when?

I have been haunted for too long
by your face. Your skin. Like I killed you

and now I cannot be left alone. You are the heart
beneath the floorboards. The name across my wrist.

The ringing in my ears when I descend the stairs
too quickly. We can hear it in the walls -- it calls to us.

The reasoning is: something like that. Something like improper?
Or unacceptable? Or is it something like: I want you.

I don't trust me with you. You make me shine and hate myself,
all in the same glorious moment. Is it something like that?

'Cos I won't be around forever. I am in need of a new ocean, for this one
is filled with bodies. And spectres. And spectators. I drowned

them all before they could profile me. You're the one that got
away. And you are brilliant to keep your distance.