Vignette

In my banal existence

there is nothing less than pure sex

in the magnetism I feel

when our faces nearly touch.

Like a Child

With my breath

I push away your

tiny seeds

to float upon clouds.

Will you carry yourselves

to a place where you might

germinate more than another

dandelion?

Telephone

The ring of the telephone,

that high-pitched squeal,

may be the bane of existence

to my mother

but for nine months has been

the sound of my Nirvana.

Yay + Gay

In all my listening,

my observation,

my keen regard,

I've discovered

you have a talent

for making even expletives

sound gorgeous.

Drunk

Drunk as fools

without alibi

we wandered that wonderland

of whitewashed houses

wedged together like teeth along

the cobbled way,

your arm finding my side

and holding me fast

for you knew I should otherwise fall.

Drunk as fools,

for we were, and are, fools,

our feet pulling us forward

into nowhere

we found, as do birds,

a niche in a wall where we might not be seen

and our lips found each other

again and again,

one thousand times.

In inebriation,

bedded down in dewy grasses

we passed the night watched only by

the moon;

unaware of anything but the undulations

of our bodies.

When sunlight found us,

heads heavy,

sodden in sleep

and in tedious migraine

we crawled back to the road

and in the harsh brightness of day

we prevailed upon ourselves

to think.