magicalthinklet

you got cinnamon peepers
spicy little saucers in your sockets
when you smile, your peeper holders crinkle
down, down, down
cute crow’s feet stompin’
happy stomps stompin’
down to your cheeks

you got cinnamon peepers
spicy little saucers in your sockets
i wanna pop ‘em in my mouth
i wanna slip ‘em in my pockets
save ‘em for later
savor them forever
your lovely, loving spicy cinnamon peeps.

i lay my finger across
the alcove above your chin
and rock it back and forth
gently, just to make sure it fits

rock, rock, rock
sure enough, it fits.

it’s a sunny day
and you are driving
“look at that cloud,”
you say pointing.
“it looks like a giant penis.”

i look at the cloud
sure enough, it does.

swish, swish, swish
go the tails of the horses
in the blurry fields.

the sun just hid
behind a cloud that looks like a cloud.
but i know it will come out again,
sure enough.

i woke up this morning
and ate two blueberry pancakes
with maple syrup
agave nectar and butter.

i had about eight sips of metropolis coffee
and read celebrity gossip.

i love the way your neck feels
between my palms while i kiss your face.
you have big soft lips
like the blueberries in my pancakes,
which is probably why i always
have to fight the urge
to bite them.

i said goodbye to you while
you were getting out of the shower.
you had little water droplets
all over your body.

i wanted to squoosh them.

ten little fingers
ten little toes
twinkling on this little person i will never know
you were a sprout on my tree branch, little Ar
you were a tender pulse in my heart.

you learned to crawl
when i wasn’t looking
you learned to walk
while i learned to fall
and when i caught -
i said,
when i caught -
that catch in my throat
you were already running.

one in front of the other
left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot
pump those little arms
hurry! hurry!
that way!
toward away!

ten little fingers
ten little toes
there they go
this sweet little person
i will never know
ten little fingers
ten little toes
she, whom i will never hold.

i followed you out the door
on a tuesday
by wednesday, you’d swallowed
the bear whole
and were speaking fluently
in growls
wednesday evening you bit me
on my thigh
and left black and blue
teeth marks in my flesh.

and before that, there were blue eyes
and corduroy pants.
you kept boyhood in your closet
and cooked me spanish rice
in your studio apartment.
on thursday afternoon you flirted
with the girl with super long blonde hair.
you filled your canvasses with the way
you wanted people to see you –
all genius scribblings on bar napkins.
by evening, i grew tired of listening
to you talk about the ex-girlfriend
who’d demand you keep your mouth open
while she kissed you so she could fantasize
about kissing a beautiful woman’s
peach fish.

friday at midnight, you bought me
a tiny water frog and we gazed
at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling.
when you kissed me, your mouth
tasted like parliaments and ramen noodles.
i didn’t mind.
but when we walked around the block
and came home to find the little frog,
young and sweet as it was,
belly up in its tank, i knew morning
would arrive sooner than you expected.

so it arrived – i had to drive to michigan
and then fly to florida to catch it, though.
you drank wine and i sipped water.
when i was on top, you were venus beneath
me. and i left you like that.

saturday was horrible. i spent the day
cleaning fake blood off your razor blades,
and listening to your mom shout racial slurs
at me. she pulled my hair so hard
it ended up in your mouth and everything
you said was tangled. you chopped down my tree
like washington and carved your name with
a heart around it in the trunk. i cut my teeth
on the roots til dawn on sunday, when they petrified.

i walked 29 lengths of your wingspan
to get to you. when you gently touched
my back and said my name with certainty,
i recognized your voice.
when i closed my eyes, my head next to yours,
i dreamt of monday – when the week was young,
when i was young, when you were young, and
i would wake up, cheeks full of sugar and lemons,
and tears rolling down my face, crying,
“is this what love feels like?”
but you were still holding me after i woke up,
despite my worst days. and though bittersweet
monday still stung, you made it sting less.
and when i asked you if you still wanted me,
you said yes and yes and yes again.
(and then, just like that, you bought me a new book of days.)

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sometimes i wanna
brush the tiny blonde
hairs in your ears.
they are so cute and
i think they would
like to be brushed
by a little brush
just their size.
then i would kiss them
one by one and
your ear would blush
and i would smile.

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super small nose sparkle
on a super cool
marching band fan.
bellies are big and jeans are tight.
fuzzy little kitten wearing
a beach blanket to keep warm.
aint nothing but a rainbo.

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here you are guinness,
dark and tasty on my tongue
there you are soft foam on top,
sitting there all chill
like the hipster that just
walked by with a silly fro
and thick-rimmed glasses
trying to rock a wool sweater
and cords at the end of may.
glide, glide, little hipster.
your black reebox are so ironic.

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we were at a kitchen table
in a public place.
you were smiling next
to your new full asian girlfriend.
you were holding a baby. you and i
laughed together. it had been awhile.
i took the baby out of your arms
and gave you a loaf of french bread
instead. you cradled it and laughed.
this is funny but it’s really,
really sad too.
probably more sad than funny.
but it was good to see you.

view sketchbook version