#recurringthemes

I only know that I love someone when a poem

oozes out of my 10 fleshy tips,

shedding itself like the white ends of my nails

when I clip them thoughtlessly,

all while I’m trying to prepare a dinner

that suddenly doubles in size with no explanation

other than that I know you’re hungry

even though you are certainly feeding

yourself at your home.

  It happened to me again today, as I slouched

on the glass table gazing through for some inspiration

to prepare a presentation for a class I despise,

it came out of me just like that

poisoned food fled my body

after the dirty meal we ate together last week.

  When I think of you now I don’t picture

your scruffy face that reminds me

of sandy beaches that extend to sandy deserts and sandboxes on playgrounds.

Instead, I can only grasp for short waves

the way you made me feel

like I wanted to trap the warmth of your palms with my palms,

saving the heat for later when we could make our own campfire

on a rooftop where the smog and smoke blend together so well

that I feel like the orange cloud we’re in

is really the magical vapor of a genie bottle