Home

went home for the weekend and the leaves were on fire.

driving north on 87 with mix cd's i got for birthday presents.

and the air was crisp like a potato chip and cool like vapor rub if you inhaled deep

we talked about God a little. about men alot. about what we wanted and what we settled for.

we stopped for jamaican food on the way. curry goat and rice and beans, an extra side of sweet plantains and two beef patties. the sun was shining warm on our grease smudged red table and we laughed and spilled water and made the old jamaican man with his kangol cap snap his newspaper and shake his head. we didn't mind. picked up our crumpled napkins and folded the waxy white bag over your half a patty that you couldn't finish.

the rest of the ride was me and my cd's. you were sleeping and i was watching the forest catch fire. yellow flames and bursts of red. at four o clock the light was lazy and golden and i was glad to be home because i wanted to curl up on the corner of the black couch where i knew the sun would still be warming.

i pulled up our driveway and turned the car off and when we got out i remembered that it's always colder up here. the air is always cleaner. and i felt tired and at home and you were excited to be there. i grabbed our bags, my dirty laundry, my school books, and let the house give you its own tour. speak for itself. you oohed and ahhed over my mom's interior design and the brownies she left out for us. i walked straight to the back of the house. it used to be my room, but that was three years ago. It was very much Lyndsay's now. Her pictures of our dog and the perfumes that lined her dresser that she never used and her big sneakers on the floor. Mom had made her make the bed.

She had four comforters just like I used to. It sounds crazy but it wasn't. The old log cabin is drafty and dad is about as thrifty as they come.

Four comforters were necessary.

She would be home in a few hours. I yelled to you that you could eat some brownies and watch tv or go for a walk if you wanted. You already were. I pulled back the blankets. the light blue one with clouds was at the bottom. it was mine from highschool.

No sheet.

I never used one either.

I'm not much of a host. But you knew that when you came. I can hear muffled voices from the tv. My Cousin Vinny. Perfect. You know where to find me if you need me.

Lyndsay's pillow smells like home.

mono.

I've got infectious mononucleosis and lots of things make sense now. why i've been so tired. shake it off. come on don't be a baby, you're fine. and really i am sometimes. sometimes i just wake up tired and that's all. nothing spectacular. why would i stay in bed because i'm tired? i tend to be tired anyway. and the tonsils swelling? waking me up in the middle of night because i can't breathe? yea. that makes sense too. they crack when i swallow. they are almost touching. but i want to go home this weekend. i feel fine. a little tired. a sore throat. nothing serious. damnit i don't want this now. been sharing juice and water with friends. and who did i get it from? some phone calls need to be made.

Jumbles

here I am.
take me disconnected and falling to pieces
and tied together with ugly strings.

what you wanted pretty?
Well I never promised that.
Yea, but you thought.
well, that sure isn't my fault.

here I am.
take me in rotting pieces and
shards of ceramic
cerulean and white

remember kate?
don't you remember
i put it in my pocket
and said remember.

it cut me today.
i forgot it was there.
i'll let him think what
he wants.

you let him think what
he wants.
(between you and me
they never know what
they want)

just smile pretty one
all curls and keep
your piece
and we'll keep our peace

and some days the string
is ribbon.
satin and pretty.
mostly when i'm
with you
at the pond before the bureau

my palace

and then today I sunk deep into soft pillows of vivid reds and royal plums and burnt oranges and i let my neck stretch and draped one arm over my head and felt body melt into smoke that wound around teak posts intricately carved kissed curves and settled into the shadows of the heavy drapes
and i was so completely yours because you were no where in sight. and i drank cardamom liqueur slowly and let it slide down my throat. opened my throat and let fire stir up in my belly. it would have been harder if you were close. but i kept you far away and bathed in rose scented water. i wore the perfumed air as a robe and walked through the gardens you never gave me.
you never gave them to me and so i turned the soil with my own strong hands. i watered the vines until they ran far away. straight up toward the heavens. and they wound and they wrapped and they covered my palace
and i let them with one arm draped over my head and my body melted into everything you never loved

Done?

I've almost got enough then.
Fuck it.
I've got enough.
Deep breath.
What does that look like?
Another almost?
Another unfinished masterpiece?
No.
I can't.
I've waited too long.
This will get finished.
This will get finished.
I can't not.
Too many doors still cracked open
too many jobs undone
I will finish this damnit.
And I will do it soon.

Qualifications for life

in four minutes let me tell you why I'm worth it.
let me tell you about my skills.
I'm a great server I could probably make you smile and even laugh on a great day and I make a mean guacamole and I have frye boots and I think that that is really something and I can hulahoop like a master and once I start dancing you can't make me stop and my roasted chicken with garlic mashed potatoes and green beans almondine are almost as great as the way that I can cut your hair. but none of these things seem worth much. but really, I could make you smile on a bad day. and that's something.

Butter

I keep spread thin like butter on toast
melting in crevices and shadows that seep deeper than you wanted
not substantial I won't hold you over
I won't make time stand still for you I wish you wouldn't wish
for more than nothing.
It's your crevices that I want
it is the spreading
thin
that I can't help
the thickness of voice
keeps me floating on the surface
good thing I never put my feet down
you are up to my ankles and I want
deep
and sound sleep and bare feet on rough bark
and braches that bend
and getting lost in boughs
together
but I am too much for
that thickness of your voice
so I'll keep it spread thin
make butterflies crawl
not fly
just flutter
and didn't we want the same thing to begin with?
Oh no. Oh you thought...
I do apologize.