On the Hudson

wrapped me up in brown black eyes,
we let the sun warm us.
gazed until I looked away
and lifted gold strands away from my cheeks.
traced my brow, jaw, ear with fingertips
and asked if I knew how beautiful I was.
I suppose I didn't because I don't recall
ever looking at myself that way.
we were by the water and the sun
left its silver white trail
on the waves.
we were by the water and we talked
about where we were going this summer.
me to europe,
him to senegal and zimbabwe.
both alone.
we were by the water and I said that
I would always need to find water to sit by.
dinner was oxtail, rice and beans,
and dessert was strawberries and blackberries
from the farmer's market.
there are a million faces in this city.
every one has their story and today I was young.
innocent in ways he hadn't been in years and
aware of things he might never be.
we didn't need to talk about forever
or tomorrow.
it's summer time and I've given up on love.
I don't want cheap substitutes,
but that doesn't mean
I'm turning down dinner by the river either.
I let myself be wrapped up
in brown, got lost in black
berry stained fingers.
we let the sun warm us.

I want my scars to be kissed first.

Don't forget it baby. Ink is for life.

San Diego

I think this evening calls for
out.

3 days.

Words are my ice cream cone rewards;
they are my congratulatory kisses,
my "go to your room" punishments,
and my everyday passings.
Words are my happy
and my sad;
my pleasure, pain, and questions.
Sometimes I spoon feed my words to others.
Mostly I eat them myself.
Yes, I'll have seconds.
Thanks.
I'm welcome.
Stomach upset,
but words are whiskey in my tea
and the warmest blanket to curl up in.
I'm going to sleep now,
and words are my dreams.
Tomorrow they will be my waking
and my learning.
Words will be my growing
and my letting go.
Right now they are my tired.