Some Nights

I have always had a sweet tooth. a craving for soft, sugary things  my craving and desires  always manifest as lofty clouds and wisps of smokes. 

I have grown out of touch  too exposed to the bitterness  an unwilling acceptance of sour  that I have almost forgotten  what sweetness felt like on the tongue. 

Now I am overflowing with gratitude  simply can not contain the giddiness in my gut,  for you have placed such gentle love-  onto my taste buds.

You have brought me back  to that girl in the candy store-  to hot chocolates,  fresh baked scones,  and home-made snickerdoodles. 

The Fall is canceled.     Yes. It has been declared completely and utterly canceled.     Yes. A state issued, proclamation! 

Why?

For no other reason than I am far too busy with matters of the heart.      Yes, I am too preoccupied with being a full-time lover-     a full-time fool, bafoon, a lunatic.

So with the power invested in me     I hereby declare, the fall, the winter, and all months following, to be canceled.      Postponed.      Until further notice,     until my heart is sorted and I am brought back to reality. 

So you’re bold enough to try?

You want lightning to strike twice in the same location.

You want that electricity.

You got a taste

and now you want more. 

Well you are more than welcome.

To hold my body again.

You are more than welcome. 

To try and make magic out of thin air

out of disaster

out of state declared

Things are simple. 

Easy. 

Delicate. 

Like a child, in elementary school. It all has purpose and reason. 

 The colors line up nicely in my crayola box. 

 The alphabet has it’s own song to keep it in check. 

 The teacher lives here after school, I know, I’ve seen her bed under the desk. 

Yes it’s all so simple. Easy. Delicate. 

Like my mother, who lost her youth to a man with a collection of tequila bottles. 

 Simple. Clean up after him. 

 Easy. Leave him. 

 Delicate. Forgive only when the laughter lines have firmly settled on the face. 

It’s all so simple. Easy. Delicate. 

Right? 

 So when I am getting dressed in the morning. 

 And toasting my bread in the toaster. 

 Why is it so hard. 

 To will the muscles in my legs. 

 To walk me out the door. 

If it’s all so simple, easy, and delicate. 

Why’d you’d have to go and do that?

Who gave you the right?

To turn to me, in a dimly lit room. 

To look me in the eyes

and say “You’re beautiful” 

with such genuine spark, such genuine intrigue, such genuine kindness. 

Who gave you the right?

To call me gorgeous in bad light

and force me to write

some shitty ass poetry

We kissed

A classic dramatic movie kiss.

What did that mean to you?

You wrapped delicious rope around my thighs-

But was that just practice?

Practice makes perfect dont it babe?

And I am your dumb foolish perfect specimen,

For you to master your craft,

Then administer it to someone else

Someone more worthy.

Or am I wrong?

Prove me wrong.

Make me look like an imbecile!

I want so desperately to be mistaken.

I want so desperately-

I want to rediscover you. 

A good old fashioned stroll.

I want to know all of the hot new spots. 

And I want to find out which parts of you have been torn down. 

I want to take my time, and take you in. 

All over again, like new. 

I want nostalgia to pull at my eyes, 

as I take in all your new wondrous sights.

I will try to marvel at who you are now. 

I want to rediscover you, every street, every avenue, every block.

I want to find out that the baker now has kids,

that the judge retired a year ago

that they gentrified the downtown area

and no one can afford to go

That the spot we used to buy gelato is now a butchershop

Yes, the very spot we’d giggle over sundaes and kiss each other sweetly,

I reach my hand out into the night 

I feel nothing but breeze and the longing of all the other lonely hearts,

reaching their hands into the night

wondering if anyone out there

will graze their skin 

just for a second

just for a touch.

Yes the long stretches of arms, hands, and fingers. 

Desperately aching, helplessly stretching, 

stretching and stretching,

lonely little lines as eager and as timeless, 

as the hills and mountains that serve as a backdrop, 

to this painting of 2 AM, tired eyes,

Oh mother you never told me life would be this lonely.

Oh father, why didn’t you teach me how to live without somebody?

Maybe I’m lonely for my demands

 fresh cut flowers in each room

 fruit arrangements in each hand. 

 and someone who will want me

 even when I feel the urge to leave. 

Because I am doomed

  to forever be enamored

  with full tanks of gas

  and open windows,

  bringing in the breeze.

  of seductive whispers

to flee, flee, flee

Oh mother, 

Let me move in

stay alive with me

for a year or two

lets slow dance

in your living room

your hand in my hand

dance till we are sore and blue

let me nestle in

stay alive with me

for a year or two

i won’t ask for more

just a couple hundred hours

to sit and sip tea with you

just a couple hundred hours of memories

to keep in my pocket

if you do ever decide

then what use do my lungs serve?

if i can’t come home to hold you

What i would give

to dig my nails into your chest

Tough, 

  Like my grandmother, 

    pulling out feathers from dead hens.     callousing her fingertips on hot stoves,      hardening her features       love looked good on her. 

Tough

  like my grandfather

     tough, like the leather he pulled on horses       like a hammer to a nail to a hot horseshoe,         like pressing fingers against a knife, against a fallen calf.          love looked good on him.

Love has always been, tough.

  hard to swallow,   tough against teeth,    rough, like my father’s hands, turned to leather from labor.    hard, like my mother, wringing a towel till her skin bled.

yes, love was pressed into my palm like a piece of hard candy,  cutting the roof of my mouth,   sticking to my teeth.

And love has taught me, fast, strict, and unforgiving.   swiftly hitting my hands,    telling me to sit upright in my seat

So concerning my history,

 do not be alarmed,   of my hardened exterior,    it has learned to adapt     to navigate love.     to handle love.     to understand love.

Please understand,  the only love I have held   was tarnished, bruised, cold, and rough. 

Love has always been rough

Yeah the whole neighborhood can smell it.

They can smell I’m in love. 

They can smell it creeping through my windows,

lofting down the cemented streets.

They can smell it crawling out of my car pipes,

leaving a trail of cotton candy behind. 

It’s borderline sickening, how sweet it is to the nostril.

Yeah the whole neighborhood can smell it. 

I’m in love,

I walked into your life

you didnt walk into mine.

with false confidence and poise

I came in and declared you new.

Foolishly, for you know this room better than I.

but you are new to me,

so fuck it

I will drop the sensibilities

I am foreign now. A foreigner on old turf.

and you should be claiming me as new

but

is this simply a feeling

so long since its been felt, it feels forgotten?

like a language so out of practice its fallen from the brain?

or is this really new? undiscovered?

swimming in my brain

causing me to learn how to survive.