Sunday, July 26, 2009
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
He hadn't shaved in a couple of days.
I rolled over on my side
with such a profound sense of loss.
It was a comet, this kiss.
I was hoping the room would still be dark.
I couldn't wait to write about it,
as if writing about it would define the moment.
As though I was equipped
to handle such occurrences with efficiency,
and a light touch.
We kissed in the kitchen.
He had lots of girlfriends.
He pressed his entire body against me.
This was not my dream.
It was my void, still warm.
Let me tell you about the way he smelled.
Let me tell you about the way his skin felt.
In a single instant everything my other self desired -
Oh, because there is another self -
was assuaged standing in a kitchen filled with people
in a dream so vivid it will become a memory.
Then, a loss.