I curse you in the afternoon
regret you as I try and sleep though
morning comes and it’s your warmth
I want to grab onto.

People look and clear their throats
insulting my addiction, say
that you’re the one who’s in control
but i don’t really care.

I reach for you in front of them
and drag you to my lips, your darkness
swirling right in front of me
your tartness hard to bear.

They think I’d cut you with some milk
but I want you full bodied, no
I do not take my coffee
like they say they think I should.

of failures that ache for repeat and perfection.

My faults might be faulted as gross imperfections

but I’m working hard at them, give me some time.

My flaws may be brazen and ugly, however

they’ve stayed with me longer than you ever did.

You say I keep making the same mistakes over

but I think I’ve yet to get my mistakes right.

They speak with hands, silently
i pull out my iPod and listen to Bach
and feel guilty.

and the fact that she’d have it be warmer

annoys me

but agreement on climate

is not really love.

Then, she’d live in one place, and I in another,

and the idea of a partner with common goals

suits me

sometimes, but common addresses

are for roomates and co-workers

and lovers cross boundaries that others might share.

That money and odesseys seem to divide us

would bother me, truly,

and send me to elsewhere

but our common path is not found in the wallet

and the things that we share not discovered with thought.

We’re bound not by choosing

not joined by convenience

but by intertwined bodies and intertwined hearts

and by intertwined fingers I’d never let go.

Trousers and blouse for people at work,

shorts and sandals for park-playing children,

makeup and dress for waiters and fellow diners.

And I share her not well.

*

Blinds pierced by sunless light,

voices without throats filtering up from the street,

a world not yet perceived is not.

Clothed in a t-shirt

my college named on it

she’s never more beautiful than the morning

when she’s only for me.

whisky on a cold winter day.

Yes, I reply,

ribbon pulled taut on a giftwrapped package.

I love you, she says, and

shut up, I say.

When you say it like that it’s currency.

Though he might be talking to the girl next to me
Though her long blonde hair is surely appealing
Though her slender frame has a clear allure
Her ass is flatter than the Berlin Wall
And my girlfriend says that my bottom is cute.

So I guess he was talking to me.