Justice

I had a long dream and in it was justin laying on a couch. There was a big loft, and layers of party happening everywhere. In it I was trying to reach out to him for that apology I've wanted for nearly 2 years. In it there was a moment of ecstasy where I touched his face and cried. In it he told someone that he wanted to be near me, from his lazed position on a couch, unmoving, untrying for it. I kept pulling him aside and he would push me away and the conversation would never happen. I think I have paragraphs for him but then in real life when we are face to face I have only a sentence where I dismiss everything and say, I've just pretended that nothing ever happened. Because my brain and body have thrown it all up and I don't want it to go any further. Nor do I want to ever anticipate getting what I've needed in maybe one sentence from him, because all of me knows that that's never. All of me has also always known that our coupledom was doomed from the beginning. How many thousands of miles away and the drop of a word or a line and then the dropping of a person from across however phones work. Dismissed as soon as it really begins to warm out, and I'm left with the imprint of my own body on the curb while the sunsets, waiting. For what? The invisible not-really person to become visible and really-there. I had at least hmm let's count them 5 relations with others the summer after and before I moved to New Orleans. I am always reaching out to connect with someone who won't shy from me and from my holding on. Of course it rarely takes but I still do and every notch is carved forever and it shows which makes sense because someone flirtingly accused that I was born in 1973 today. I look at pictures taken 1 2 4 years ago and remember the eerie feeling of existing that long ago not so different as I am now. Still wishing hoping but jaded on the needing of that justice, that sigh of alright, I finally got what I asked for.

airport

I'm sitting here in the cadillac
I've been ignoring the family
who keeps asking for it back
bc it's my whip, now
there's the trash, rodesoda cans
allofthe blankets off of allofthe cabin beds
a blue-painted sign written I think in my grandfather Bruce's hand that reads,
silk purse
and on its alternate side,
sow's ear
It's a special item
& also the carved wooden fist, I had to break it off the doorway
I'm glad I noticed it, else it would have been crunched
so
it's my whip, now
& I'm in jetstream aviation's parkinglot
picking up my passenger
and really, not sad at all to be at the airport picking up my passenger
I'm no sadball
I'm ballless
& ignore me, nothing abt me is an ugly one
or a gross thing
or a sucker
May be I am a full fantasizer
a picture-of-the-futurer
a let's try it
but you should check out my most excellent smile
it's the one thing I have for your face
give me sentiment, give me nostalgia
give me
a present a future
give me my good face back,
  an idgaf face
give me
bc I'm a neurosis queen taker
a narcissistic give me give me
   I glow
   I'm a glow machine
& no one blow me down now
fly here, flyaway
  whatever,
I'm taking the car
& I'm out of this twobit town