The Things You Hold Onto

Even though chemical exposure based amnesia

poached most of the memories classified “us” from your memory,

we  still IM

hours after reasonable people

have turned off the lights,

disconnected Netflix,

and sent their laptops to sleep.

I refuse to admit to anyone,

except the stranger who’ll receive this card,

that one of my “things” remains you.

Come Over

(inspired by this awesome Kenny Chesney song of the same name)

You were
the wrong sort person
for me to adore.

Knew that from day,
if not hour,
one.

Think we both
made the correct choice
when we decided not
to reengage in the on again
off again behavior that’s been
us for longer than we care to admit,
even to ourselves.

Sometimes, however, I miss
you exquisiteness,
even though it came
with almost unbearable agony.

Toppling

(Assignment: Unstack objects or tear down the obstacles stacked in your way, etc.)

You and I
Primus and Thisbe
or ,more accurately, Thisbe and Thisbe
kissing through chinks in socially constructed,
sub-culturally enforced, walls.

Every six months or so,
we have one of our marathon,
post-midnight phone conversations
and decide that honoring these
long ago conceived restrictions
is nothing short of stupid.

The morning light will find us
lack to will to pursue
such noble aims.

Love Hurts

Agree to disagree
that’s how you and I
negotiate each other
although I’m pleased
with our new way relating.

Soon I hope,
I will learn to stop
aexspecting a falling shoe.

Here we go again

Your smile
will always make heart skip beat
or three-

has ever since that too cold January day
when gimps gathered to confront Kevorkian
and I decide to yield to six months
of pent up desire
that I am nearly too naive
to comprehend.

Despite how well this round us
is going, for now,
I can’t help waiting
for the other shoe.

Looking Back

(assignment 20a, theme "looking back")

I look back,

my memories of you

calling to me as always.

I see you in dreams,

naked and eager-

your long hair running

between my shower wet

digits.

Its funny when I think

of being with her;

her skinny fame, her crutches,

her hair like yours,

between dry fingers

as I don’t know her

as well as you.

I think

she’s the future.

You’re the past.