my.side

six months ago i imagined how your heart would beat when i put my ear there.
this isn't how it's supposed to sound.

i imagined every fifth beat would be skipped - just for the hell of it.
nothing special - except my head fits there - balanced.

at some point slightly after our first spades game (you flipping several cards up as you dealt) i decided i'd find a crack to slip through when you weren't looking.
there are no new year resolutions in this year's journal - on purpose.
i wanted to start this year with no expectations or bars to reach - giving you a head start.

three months ago i figured my head may be too big to fit
so i'd use my hand first.
slow my heart rate to keep the beast from conquering your heart.
i'd get it another way.

the pillow you offer on the cold nights when my apartment becomes too far to drive back to can remain on the bed where i've left several dreams and a few cloud-like configurations.

let's eat whatever it is i cook and discuss sexual partners and why we're each other's exception.
let's kiss between the periods and the first letters.
inhale the rest of my cologne when the commas get to be too much.

"how long you think we can do this?" - you ask.

"until one or the both of us can no longer believe in forever or fiction." - i replied.

you rolled to your stomach and turned your head towards mine: "are you comfortable?"

i remained on my back - staring at the ceiling - silent - knowing your heart was now closer to me: "i'm good"
and i found my side of your bed.

the.distance.

i told her we probably knew each other 30 or 40 years ago before i souls became adjusted to their new lives.
our old lives seem to line up perfectly.
there is something about the outfits she wears that catches my eye - matches my fly.

but she's far.
there are moons between us.
i often catch the moon before she does, giving her a heads up of it's light.
i've sat in my window sill for hours hoping she'd get the right light for her art.

i reach into my pockets past the dryer lint and pull out my last few compliments to give her.
she pays me back with pictures of beauty taken on junk piles.

one day - when the distance between us aren't so great - we will be.
we've learned to love differently.

there has to be a story of our ancestors we have yet to hear.
a story about a woman with a chalk rock creating immortal life with her heart.
a story about a man with a muse writing her into forever.

the story we have yet to hear.

we build a bridge to bring the moon closer.
and we walk.

i want to kidnap her like poets do.
there are road sides with no footprints.
there are photographs that have not been taken and poems that have not been written.

so we walk a few miles and meet in the middle:

26 W Adams St

Crossville, TN

they sell hot wings and lemonade.
that's the middle.

and we'll pull over on the side of the road.
i'll start telling you why the sky sometimes turns red...
and you'll take the picture.


and the distance will no longer exist.

photo by: april nicole: (http://myspace.com/niksteezy) (http://theartsydawl.blogspot.com)

i.welcomed.her.home

last night i welcomed her home.

she left her shoes at the door and her pride on the stoop before coming in.
i hung my pride up beside the summer jacket i knew i wouldn't be wearing for a while.
i longed for the foolishness to be done.

all communication up to now lived in our palms as we checked old text messages and the new alerts.

she was beautiful.
and we had yet to make eye contact or so much as a sneeze.

she doubled up on my basketball shorts and wore my tank top under the white tshirt i had given her five months ago when i wore hanae mori cologne and showered with irish springs with aloe.
i could still smell the younger me on her.

she was beautiful.

her thumbs moved fast across the qwerty keyboard and my eyes moved faster across her being.

'so...i missed you.'
she looked up.
what the fuck was i saying?
i don't miss people.

i'd sooner bite through that skin that lives between the pointer finger and the thumb than confess a longing for anyone.
but shit, this was the type of longing that went further south than the heart.
this was the type that managed to build a fort in one's groins.
shit!

and she smiled.

and as much as i hate the fact that the sun disappears at 5:00pm it didn't seem to bother me anymore.
i now found more time to enjoy laying in a bed with the remote on the floor and my fingertips creating a maze between the strands of hair she promised to grow so i could grab.

and between the last few bites of baked sweet potatoes and the first few minutes of a massaging shower
we found ourselves omitting all fuck-ups we caused in madness.

and with paid programming happening in front of us and the remote too far
we lay there in satisfaction
but no words.

i missed her.

so last night i welcomed her home.

if i was to tell you...

i dropped my keys on the table by the door. since locking the doors on the 1979 chrysler new yorker, i anticipated dropping my backpack off in my room, and occupying the bathroom for a few seconds, freeing the mcdonald's sweet tea from within. (side note: i think i just made peeing sound kinda intriguing)

i washed my hands and played the staring game with myself, wishing the reflection was a real twin so i could hit the shit out of him for not asking her to sleep in my bed instead of her own.
or at least sit on it for hours while we play tag around the borders - fucking up the fitted sheets while doing everything but fucking.

fucking's not a thought right now.
i like her to much to fuck her this early.
(side note: this is one of those things that makes a guy realize he's growing)

i run the shower water and gargle with the scope.
between swishes from cheek to cheek i find new hopes.

i want to be home with her when the electricity decides to take a turn for the worst
so i can feed her cheesecake and yogurt with the lights out, laughing because i got some on her forehead.

i want to put a blank disc into the slot and fill it with the 18 songs that remind me of her.

i thought about grabbing my toothbrush and running to my car.
crank it up and pray i have enough gas to get me to that avenue of trees I know exist on the other side of silence.
hoping she placed her phone by her ear so she'd feel it vibrate when i texted.

tell her about the bench i found one night while walking off a creative high.
tell her to mapquest the spot and meet me there.

she'd say: 'why should i?'

i'd say: 'because i was standing in my closet and couldn't think of anything i'd rather be doing than playing a game of spades with the cards up with you at 4:45am - waiting to wake the sun up to let him know it's monday and he has work to do.'

she'd say: 'but i'm half sleep. i wouldn't be any fun.'

i'd say: 'if i was to tell you just how much i need you, would you come tonight?'

she'd say: 'yes.'

and i'd do that.