I Miss

Kisses about apple pie a la mode with the vanilla creaminess melting in the pie heat. Kisses about chocolate, when you haven't eaten chocolate in a year. Kisses about trees speeding by, trailing pink clouds when you drive down the road sizzling with champagne. Kisses about spotlights fanning the sky and the swollen sea spilling like tears all over your legs.

Hands fumbling with the camera and the faded baseball cap and the slouchy posture and the crackly voice first thing in the morning and the hands that soothed and the jangling of your keys as you moved toward me.

All that is gone. You are gone.

June

June is here and Seattle is greening but still cold.

It's like, when I was with you my mind was a hardwood floor. Like each cortex and chemical and neuron was an individual floorboard; well cut, planed smooth and inset tightly with the others around it to create a solid, sturdy, supportive whole.

Now that you've cast me aside, now that you're with her (and why can't I stop picturing you with her?), the boards are gapped, knotted, warped, weak planks. They squeak when trod upon, stand gauchely out, and are so loose that other things, like confidence and optimism and self-worth, may be concealed beneath them like some demented time capsule.

You are my blood

I love you, I love you, My Secret Agent Lover Man, my wish list come true.
I will always love you more than anyone.

What I want...

is to have a wound that bleeds, that needs sutures and anesthesia.

I seem to be undergoing some kind of nervous collapse.

Oh, babe

You're good for nothing
And nothing is good enough for you.