deathtoyourmom

i rode for twenty minutes with a half-flat tire

i couldn't catch up in time to those who could help me

after a brutal exchange, i rode back

took a shortcut through a tunnel half-filled with ice

and fell, bruised my knee but not so much that it was worth mentioning

{you are probably sick of my falling down stories anyway}

the tire finally flattened itself out a block away from my house

i stopped and yelled in the street

then walked home.



i almost didn't go see you.

but i went anyway.

and watched for a minute, trying to erase the last hour from my mind.

watched the melee of people, dancing badly, making eye contact, pouring alcohol.



but mostly, i was looking for you.



and when i found you and you lifted me, everything washed away

everything else became a lie

and i felt selfish for being so angry.

i felt horrible for not being able to let go and dance with you.


but i felt content just being able to watch.

being able to watch you.

later on, in your arms,

i could close my eyes and forget.

forget the last twenty years.

forget everything i've been too afraid to mention

and be lost in your eyes

lost in your breath.

lost in the contentment of being yours

you asked me, in daylight, if i it was really what i wanted.

"of course."



you told me to look at you

and i shifted my gaze to

those lovely dark amber pools



if you only knew...


i could live in perpetual grandeur.

i could stare endlessly,

thoughts of chasing arabs up and down the slope of your nose...

i could steal this forever and hide

not in counters, nor in dove-tail serifs and the correspondence of old men

but in that darkness behind your eyes



i almost cried when i got on that bus



but instead i tripped and almost hit a passenger

while trying to steal a last glimpse of you



the hardest thing i've written in here so far.
hard because of anxiety towards being deterrent
easy because it is true.

+++++

"the hot water at ten.
and if it rains, a closed car at four.
and we shall play a game of chess,
pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door."

-t.s. eliot