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Don't tell anyone
I am here thinking about all of the sad sagged faces
mine too is sad

bros

boys letting girls drive them around in their cars
boys sitting on the beach with girls reading the thoughts of important french thinkers
boys kissing wet girls on the beach
boys wanting to be sober with girls
boys going to their parents' place for salmon
boys drinking and driving
boys making their cocktails with raspberries & mint leaves
boys referring to their cocktails as their cocks
boys letting their moms move in
boys with their phones in their pockets
boys anticipating a latenight call
boys inviting girls over
boys listening for the sidewalks to ring out with skateboard wheels
boys drunk driving
boys sitting with anxious girls in their arms on a bed
boys holding girls as they cry on their faces
boys telling girls all of the things
boys sitting on the stoop with girls
boys crying with girls, talking about being broken hearted
boys getting naked
boys saying, I want to fuck everyday
boys wanting to tell someone they love her everyday
boys falling asleep to the party
boys waking up kindly, with fondness
boys wondering if it will end soon enough

novelty

tear down that mtn, she does
we do can
there are tries alloverthe place
tries swarming around me, I'm swatting at them
I am in an apron I'm sitting on the curb beside the gasstation in the hot sunlight
in thick tights for summer
I am a teen, I know
but I am thinking abt new orleans a lot
wondering?
when, will we?
is it a novelty, now
is everything abt me novelty?
you fell in love with a novelty
it was too romantic, too impossible beautiful faraway to be anything
but
words, pics, drunk affections
like time pulled over
in the big novel countryside
and then the countryside shattered
into a million impossible pieces
and I was shown in the bustedup reflections
the impossible
our faces, bodies, voices crunching out
us, irl
the beautiful invisible novelty
that we were

eventually

yeah, I was sick & then I was filled with the life virus & then I made these promises that things were clean & upswept, but unfortunately I was cursed with a perfect memory, of faces, beard-scents, shoulder warmths, eyecolors. so I suffer, and it is tiresome, almost puts me in a coma in a blanket coma, and I try by reaching for all over directions. I want the hands of others around, and a different sort of conversation sometime. I think I will get out of here

I'm elevated

Thanks for all the notice. The honey of sonoran bees. The limes, the sparkling metal of a cup. My beringed fingers, the faces in memory. The old ones, the nonresponses. How can you have so many histories, so close together like that? Hiding out in the cool humidity, seeing the sun out there & fighting it, the money, the food, the apologies, the wanting to get it all over with & good. Avoidance of goodbyes, the patience in hellos. Your hair is short your hair is long. Your hair is aubergine, it is curls. It is thick & your head is large, it isn't changed, but you with guns, now. The new me, the new her, and the shes in between. The ancient heart of yours still there & with it. The love interests never losing any. Multiples. I am here, on this couch constant, getting stirred from ahead, waiting till body to catch on.

back of the night, autumn most touchable

I likened the stars to views in kitchens and living rooms, the blue glows, the faces facing & talking, the movements before ovens and in cabinets, fiddling silently with a lightbulb, a lit lamp. The dark of grass, of a road, the impressiveness of a damp dwelling and an unlit garden. And over it the softness of an impending summer'send. Lovely how they change & grow. O, september.