Sunday, February 15, 2015
ham, peanut butter, sandwich
If you come for me right now I'd stand naked in the shower with you. I don't think I'd be so nervous this time, except for the small red spots on my stomach; it is winter and my skin is dry.
Or drive across the country listening to music. Or both in that order. I miss Wyoming and the way the mountains make my chest fill up.
Suddenly and inexplicably I am remembering that time when two people sank a blue paddleboat in a lake in Pennsylvania. They held onto a tree limb just above the water and we hauled ass in the emergency motorboat. Well once we got the lock to the storage shed open.
I promise you right now I'm going to write more this year, fucking almighty I am tired of using up all of my energy fulfilling other people's needs. I don't mean loving. That's a different thing entirely and I'm happy to do it.
Would you like any ham with your peanut butter sandwich?
This fucking album. I lost the mixed CD you made me. I haven't followed you back because I'm all unsorted on the inside. I'm glad you took the hint after I ignored 800 of your calls. I didn't know you loved me like that or I wouldn't have kissed you, just two friends who like each other enough to kiss by the hedgerow, I thought, evergreens prickling my back. Was I wearing a hunter green fall-weight jacket that day? Have I ever owned a jacket like that?
Thank you so much for going to that poetry open mic night with me. That was really swell and I had a giant crush on you. I wish I hadn't been drunk that one time we had sex. I'm much better at it now.
Meanwhile in Boston. I can't believe how childish you got once I said I wasn't in the mood, pouting the entire bus ride to the museum. What an asshole. I'm glad you showed me around the park but I should have ditched you by that Planned Parenthood downtown, or while I was tight-roping the concrete edge of the memorial fountain. Your trombone is weak and your wooden bowls pretty, though I wouldn't pay $700 for one of them.
I sat on the swing inside the fenced-in playground and though I was near community gardens on an elite college campus I felt like I was sitting in prison, and just as vulnerable, and it was my birthday and I told you that I liked you even though he wouldn't stop kissing me. I don't think of you very often and for that I am grateful in its own right. We loved. We are no longer in love.