we left the cold blank walls
white and bland
stripped of photos
of colors & memories
that’d be left, soon enough
i was littered with anxiety, apprehension
—excitement, above all
of not knowing the change that was
to come
since then, it’s been more of a yearning for
continuation
as i drive through the well manicured
trees that carve in like
they do in the movies
pristine and intentional
i find myself feeling like the summer before then
before that start
before we began
today i wake up to a third letter
i begin to map out schedules, requirements
and costs
this time
i yearn for stillness, not movement
practicality, not dreams
mute pastels, not lights
familiarity, not novelty
i curl into what is safe
reaching to any and all good
that came before
things are different
yet not so much
five years have passed
but it feels like nothing has
this is my new fresh start
a sturdy continuation of everything that
has come before
we used to dance in the rain
because we wanted to be like stargirl
stargirl with the long blue dress
stargirl with the whiskery pet rat
stargirl, who meditated on fields
and danced in the rain
and who lived so vivaciously
we wanted to do the same
we used to dance in the rain
because it made us feel free
as people ducked into corridors
we sprinted onto fields
we filled our oxfords with mud
laughed with our chins to the sky
we would immortalize youth forever
cold shirts plastered to our backs
remember when
you had your soul with you
honey
(resting on a) crow’s perch
(i thought)
when am i gonna lose you
(for we had) grown nothing
sin no halo (so you cried)
(go and) save me from your kindness
fill me up with (your) anthem
throwaway
my man
break free
little white
dove
one day it’s gonna break
did you know that psychopaths
do not feel much anxiety?
that they remain unnervingly calm
heart beats low and steady
the truth is
she says
I do not remember the last time I was genuinely anxious
her hands lay flat
maybe I used to be
but not much anymore
not much anymore
in what situations did you ever feel anxious?
a small nudge
I don’t know. dumb things, little things like
indecision, emotional pools
hands clasped
there’s an outdoor smell clinging
to my hair after we sit outside on the patio
to our left are thickets of dried up bushes
to our right are seesawing heehawing burger devourers
we talk numbers, business, philosophy
finance and people
i decide i’m more interested in the personnel part
there’s an outdoor smell clinging
to my hair as i sit on a small foldable
army green chair, virgin suicides
propped open in my lap
to my right are big rubber tires
to my left is pungent smelling vinegar
filling the giant vat that used
to be my bath tub
today i sit indoors
lightly observing rain drops clinging to the window
cliched trees sway in the wind and murky
green water ripples thru the canal
this is the most intentional deja vu
the greenest of green spaces
i left and i returned–
this is the closest i get to nature
on the last night
i very much
wanted to leave
by the stacks of
kleenex tissues
glass and dust
donatable
non-donatable
hopefully-were-donated
goods
i was very much ready to go
please come
i am making ravioli and soup
i’ll bring you tissues–just please come
so we piled into the car and talked about pharmacy
arrived at her home to
orangey butter lights
crawled the staircase to the lace
and gold living room
trailed
to the leather couch i’d watched end of the fucking world on
to the desk i’d painted “best friends at”
to the bed where we’d
watched bachelor and gossiped
and cried
over the tomato thick soup
i lament illness
(full circle) and movement and
so many little things i can’t remember–
we set the table
forks spoons plates
food atmosphere celebration and
all
embracing this time
for us all to be
together
like extended family
we bond
like fourth cousins
we cackle
we watch in amusement as family members begin
to pair off
raising their voices in enthusiasm
waving wildly
we curl up on the couch
observing quietly
and my heart feels so warm
morning dusk
falling dawn
blinding white
covers
the less love there is
the more i write about it
the more love there is
the less i write about it
when i’m swimming in love requited
the last thing i want to write about is love requited
what color is this
the woman asks
i stare at it hard
beige and grey, i decide
when the woman pats the foundation
gently on my face
she observes and so do i
it’s tinted orangey
do you think this goes well with that?
the woman says
i pause and say yes to the cream–
i thought they were the same outfit
hard edges soft smiles
skin cleaner than artificiality
musters
floral beckons pink
gasps
femininity’s clasp
and loosening fingers
must you gab on so constantly interpret my quiet for surliness you’re doing that thing where you go silent yes my life 99% of the time who’s got time to talk so much well I do I love it and my lips are pursed and my head is saying must you gab on so constantly
dirt and grime and a cloud of dust / I promised I wouldn’t leave again
we were made of stardust
of a billion cosmos
skin of the sky
(and as we looked towards the night
I so very much wanted to believe it)
us–can you imagine?–made from the destruction of celestial bodies
only to return, full circle, to the dirt beneath weeds
i told myself that one day I’d buy you a telescope
just so we could see our mirrored selves
lighting up
a swarm of melting bodies
there’s a quick lilt that falls on her lips
sky kissed bronze falling in wisps
she leans in forward and nonsensically quips
“red velvet red velvet draped her hips”
cinnamon flecked bodies of
spice dipped milk
churning spoon and metal
glass clinks
aromatic whispers from my arms throat
and up
a full-bodied warmth
dances into my chest
were dreams the actualization of
latent unsaid
content?
(as freud posited)
or were dreams of something more
meaningful–
say, synchronization?
(as jung offered)
as i lie in bed
wrapped in distorted memories
cocoon of broken lights
i piece together the nothingess of logic
knowing that my subconsciousness
has weaved itself
indelibly
incoherently
infuriatingly
back into myself
day 16 of escapril
