Monthly Archives: April 2016

another place

it begins in the morning. here. or there.
I dodge two small running bodies on the way to the kitchen,
“okay, what do you boogers wanna eat today?”
more running. I hear a giggle.

I am startled by my cell phone ringing.
“Tuesday, 6:45 PEE-EM. dad. write it down. ugh where’s Rebecca? she’ll remember”
quit being a snot. I got this.
I see two small eager faces watching me.
step-brothers coming to visit means toys and getting away with everything.

you walk in rubbing your eyes.
good morning loves.
it never gets old.

I watch you like a teenager in a nightclub.
I will remember what it felt like to think I lost you every single day.
holding you is winning a lottery I didn’t know existed.

I sneer and suggestively stare at your ass.
I raise my eyebrows comically.
subtle and ridiculous.
you must really love me.
the boys eat.

we planned this day a few weeks ago.
a short getaway.
just the two of us.
I might get you pregnant again.
you laugh.
but I really might.

the house becomes a whirlwind of toys and legos for a few hours.
we get everything ready.
“be good boys for grandma and grandpa”
after all.
it is our honeymoon.

this would be our third this year.
we are always planning our honeymoon.
we have been married a few years now.
I’m looking forward to our honeymoon tonight.

we aren’t dropping them off until 4.
that leaves a few hours.
“alright, it’s time you boys learned about kickball”
everyone loves kickball.
we play tiny kickball.

“it’s a surprise” you tell me.
we have our bed and breakfast reserved.
but here we are.
in the middle of nowhere.

there’s a pond nearby.
brackish water rippling quietly.
you walk away from me.
“baby, what are you doing?”
you sit down.

you gently pump your legs.
it isn’t a bench at all.

you take something out of your bag.
“you look thirsty”
I kiss you.
I know what this is.
“I love you”
you squint at me.
“are you certain?”

we hold each other.
pumping our legs the whole while.
just high enough to make the creak concern us.
and we tumble off together.

we become animals.
a ball of heat and sweat.

I wash my face.
you pee.

we have so much to do tomorrow.
we spoon.
my hands are on your boobs.
I told you.
I will never stop fondling you.
I promise.

“is this real?”
somewhere this is actually happening.
you laugh.
“what do you mean somewhere?”
I kiss you again.

it doesn’t matter.
not here.

we have so much to do.


this is what we all do.
whether quietly internalizing,
or yelling, screaming, criticizing.
this is what we all do, even you.

the stream of things of little sense.
the thing we label consciousness.

the soup we stir of long psychosis,
boiled down to one prognosis.

end itself of all of self.
the race we run as someone else.
that other thing that wasn’t you.
that person that you hardly knew.

but it could have been.
and it will be.
so mourn the now that echoes empty.

and know that soon enough it can’t be.
lost to living years you can’t see.


I wonder why you smile sometimes.
Surrounded by what shouldn’t be.
Not all that comes of fate unraveled,
belongs upon the midden heap.

Lovely bits of life leftover,
left to love when love is bolder.
Knowing better comes with older,
even though it knows no better.

feeling is not knowing ever.
stolid through the nasty weather.

waves that crash against together,
(insert hyperbole ‘forever’)
leave again, no, not that never.
I would not survive the clever.

I could not make the excuse,
of hurt that ties a gentle noose.
of necks that nuzzle near the nothing,
somehow finding sometimes something.
curling into lovely loving.
feel the sudden warmth against me.
curse the day that says it can’t be.

in the meantime I will sleep.
to my counsel I will keep.
for all but one.
these words are cheap.
one day, this, you may delete.

but just this.
right here is okay to start.
if it doesn’t line up.



what a surprise to see you dear,
still, so far, yet somehow near.
what a surprise to feel alive,
to know that something strong survived.

fancy that, the flights of fancy,
take me to the you I can’t see,
fly me to a place that can’t be,

wanting full but ever empty.

ever empty, always dreaming.

holding on to precious feeling,
holding on to precious you.
what this is, is nothing new,
I’d just like
to see it through

we all wish for second chances.
often tied to failed romances.
a wish for change and sudden shift,
some of us just want a bit,
just one decision.
a teeny tiny self revision,
math that solely sells addition,
change that comes with one condition.

perhaps, this life can flex enough,

to allow this dream of us.