New Playmate Poem II

The frozen lake at two am looks the same
as the lake on a June evening, just as bright
except I'm standing on the ice now
and we're laughing--you're terrified,
can't get your footing and you crawl
hands and knees, tears falling from eyes
the hilarity too overwhelming to stay dry
I'm calling you names from the middle
where I stand shaking with no coat
but my feet aren't going anywhere,
I guess I'm just waiting for you

when you finally stand up in front of me, you say
"when we hang out, I feel like I'm going to die"
I think of the others who've said the same thing
but I don't hold it against you, I just put my arms
around you and do a sliding dance and make up a song
about how pathetic you were on your hands and knees

I don't think I've ever laughed that hard
my stomach hurts more violently every day
but I think if we walk right to the shore
it'll end up being okay,

I just don't want to die crossing the road,
I said and you nodded thinking of all the times
death had tickled your ankles in everyday ways,
but just follow my lead and I think we'll make
find a way to get kicked out of the obituaries
for sheer profanity and that's how They'll know.

Beast Before Beasts

By the time they quit hearing you,
your mouth has turned to mud--
standing aimlessly before the crowd
of indifferent beasts wearing trousers

But it's now that you notice the sky
is lighter than it usually is at this time
and it's a moment ago that you thought
you could hear your previous lovers
whispering your name on your neck

No wonder they're not listening,
a coyote wearing a suit, paws bundled into fists
you thought you were a man,
you wanted to be a man,
you felt like a man,

until you realized you're all fithy fucking dogs,
so you dived into the crowd and tore flesh
crossed arms over shoulders, swaying drunk with this fever
this lust for your barbarianism,

In the morning you'll wake up a little confused,
but something has changed now, something has moved
and try with you anger and your belligerance
throw your weight around, growl and terrify
but you're never going to make it as a man

not in this world, not in this climate.

(rd)

McKenzie & Beth

You are forlorn, my sweet little chick
your father has not forgotten to pick you up
you have memorized his license plate number
so you can spot him coming down the road
but your sweet little sad eyes have me hooked
and my heart is aching for you,

I admire your devotion, your soft side

Someday, it will mean nothing to you
that your father has forgotten you
or that he remembered to pick you up
but there is nothing to talk about
except that he can't wait to go home
and have a drink,

Oh, poison

But for now, today, we will both sit
you in my lap, your hands on my arms
a bit bewildered by the answers we find
to satisfy our curiosities, a bit tired
and we'll watch outside the window,
we'll talk about the mountains,
your little hands will imitate shapes
and movements that you see,

waiting for our father's license plates
except yours will appear faithfully
today, tomorrow, yesterday, three weeks ago
it seems endless, doesn't it?

In a moment today, I said
I don't need your thousands of stories.

Your moment sounded like,
Your skepticism is perfect when played
along side your eyes and smile
which I have noticed comes before, during, and after
your laughter.

I take it back, I think
You can tell your stories.

Yeah, he's kind of got a rep for that
everyone's pressing me to get involved
but there's no cure once you step foot
inside that door
and he can see straight
through my bullshit.

Damn the diseased,
damn us all.

New Playmate Poem

Come home, Astronaut
you have fallen from your position
above the earth so violently, fiery
crashing down charred into a field
how simple the farmer was to look
upon you as a meteor, a chunk of rock

but I knew you would be moving soon,
pretender, imaginator, illuminator--
I think you fell marvelously.
We should walk back to town and talk
or listen to our secret soundtracks in our skulls,

what song are you listening to?
mine sounds like fresh air
and I've been lookin' for a playmate like you
since I was a child,
come on astronaut
with your helmet under your arm
and my yellow cape flying behind me
lets go home together
we should play pretend today.

Dancing, III

They loved me for being able to writhe,
and being able to throw my head back to laugh,
they loved me for my hips, especially my hips
where they all placed their hands.

I adored them for their eagerness, desperation
grabbing at intimacy to finally feel close,
their longing to grind thighs against thighs
soft parts to our machine.

How can you not admire a man for his sexuality?

and if you
are his temporary, nightly, momentary goddess
how can he not admire you?

Ashland, Ohio

If love were enough,
if the warmth of remembering a time spent
came in the form of solid currency,
there would be more than enough funding
I would be able to mend this city's broken sidewalks
put bandaids on all the children's knees,
rebuild doorways into office buildings
If only it were enough,
I could do it single handedly
for every family too poor to leave
and for everyone too rich to look back on simplicity
for all my neighbors who had enough character
to raise a community of children
For all my spirit to be poured into that town
that storm cloud town with it's dirty gray walls
foundations too weak, pushing into the ground from the weight,
and broken down factories, windows waiting to be broken
with bricks from it's own walls...
But remember what we did there? The summer mornings?
Broken bike wheels, dogs attacking toys left on playgrounds,
mothers calling kids home from front porches,
the overhang of trees shading roads,
the hospital expected children with no shoes
the schools bought our supplies and places pencils in our hands,
there have been no other summer evenings to compare,
no evil thunderstorms, no lilac bushes, no heat waves
even come close to what hid within the walls of that town
yeah, if love were enough, if love were enough.

The Way We Speak

If we still had our watches,
they would be set to the time of Us,
I'd never move that time forward.
When we both wore gaudy digital watches
so that we wouldn't have to waste time
telling hands apart; didn't have to waste time
time was our best friend--is our best friend.

What about the things we don't talk about?

The other day I felt bloated and remembered
how our periods would start at the same time
and we would lay on my bed and laugh hysterically
because we knew neither of us would get pregnant
from what we were doing.

What were we doing?

Showing up at your front door simply because
and you were waiting in your car--window rolled down
"Whatcha doin' over there? Get in."
Tried to make it to the beach, ran out of gas in Richmond
your little egg shaped car tried;
and we piled into the back seat until it was safe
to call your brother who hated me anyway
didn't matter, we got home somehow

Where should we be right now?

I shouldn't have been so definitive with you
that was never what we were about: boundaries
definitions, expectations, straight lines,
being able to explain ourselves and our feelings.
I should've given you thirty four more chances
because you wanted to explain why your final answer was no
I know, I know--but I was tired of the back and forth
I just wanted to have fun with you again.

When did our changes take place?

You perform so well for his family,
I changed my personality for him.
You love him now. I loved him then.
When we were with other people
we couldn't even speak--there was still
there was a remainder
there were signs of sin--
but kudos for your performances,
and pretending to be quaint.

Do you think any of this really matters?

We don't even speak of the Shift
laying across the couch, legs intertwined
twenty-two years old and twenty-one
you're so high you don't realize your hand
is on my ankle and I'm so time-warped
I don't realize anything is out of place.
"Does the sun ever set on our empire?"
your question is stunningly simple
breathy, realistic, but heart breaking
& you sit up in a hurry with machine gun apologies.
No need, "Of course the sun don't set. Shit."
At ease, friend... just cool it.

Do you just want to lay down and take a nap?

Woke up together like old times on that old couch
stuffed with old memories replayed, replayed
each one smelling like a thrift store;
new to us right now, but we've owned this before.
The doors on the deck point toward the sunrise
and you've been awake for hours just measuring
yourself and me and how we never quite fit
our hands just fall places and we never used to pretend
not to know, it used to just be okay;

Do I remember what you said?

"You'll visit my grave, right?
you HAVE to visit my grave."
On a trip to the mountain with a tent
a case of beer, cheap marijuana, your bb gun,
and enough fireworks to leave us sans eye brows,
bare feet hanging out your passengers window,
your arm propped up on the back of my seat,
I couldn't see you through my hair whipping across
my face, blinding me at a moment when I should've looked
right
at
you
the one and only time I felt the flavoring of permanence with you,

But do you remember what I said?

"You're never going to die."
You laughed that stupid fucking laugh
pushed my head away and kept laughing
but when we were putting up the tent
and smoking & you stopped and commented on the smell
of the forest and casually told me it was good
that we'd never die and that we'd never die together
of course we kissed between swigs of natty light
god i loved you then

So you want to know if I remember?

Of course I remember,
claro que si.
You were in Spain, telling me about fiery festivals
lasting entire lifetimes, "You should be here."
Yes, I should've been there.
No, the sun don't set.
And if you keep smiling at me like that when you come inside,
we're going to keep doing this
and you told me you learned your lesson about saying no
but I wasn't trying to teach you
so this must be as legitimate as you and I can get
we're kind of flying free now, aren't we?
Five years in the making.

Dancing Militants

We are instructed to keep our faces covered,
our black sunglasses over our eyes,
some of us hold flags, some of us guns,
the wind is threatening to blow my beret off,
how devastating my curling, snarled hair
would appear against the back drop of defiance and war.

I am sure we are right,
my ground is stood.

If I were not a militant,
the grenade in my hand would not be eager to escape
exploding next to you, waiting to get under your skin.

And if I were not a woman,
with the mind to perpetuate our purposes,
then my soul would not know this ocean's storm.