boxes & beds

 

you keep his name

losing yours

stuffed - like your old journals -

into corrugated cardboard

packed in the corners

of well worn attics

 

the sanctity of marriage

the subversion of love

 

the taste of a woman plays

out of frame

but you have kittens

and shelter

and a husband

        [n. 1. a man joined to a woman in

               marriage; a male spouse.

            2. chiefly British a male manager

               or steward, as of a household.

            3. archaic: a prudent, thrifty

               manager]

who

CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT YOU

 

need not yours: sweet sweet

wine leaving you so damn thirsty

so you just drink more

need not yours: it's like, it's like

you don't ever have to fold

desire's origami into the shape

of you

 

cloud dragons on

an ocean day

skin by streetlight

slanting through blinds

        [n. 2. something, such as a window

               shade or a Venetian blind,

               that hinders vision or shuts

               out light

            3. a shelter for concealing

               hunters or nature

               photographers

            4. something intended to conceal

               the true nature, especially

               of an activity; a subterfuge]

 

how friends can we be

when I only slant through

a cell phone call in the twenty minutes

between

work and your exit home?

 

1 birthday card.

1 christmas card.

email generalities with colon smiles.

 

pixels do not bear the weight

of any presentfuturepast

not to mention

that I still get hard thinking of you

 

and

occasionally

very

late

at night

 

drunk on my own folded perceptions

(and mis ones at that)

when I conjure your salt-lick taste

I whisper empty words

 

that you will never hear

and I believe. at least until I cum

        [n. 1. the thick white fluid

               containing spermatozoa that is

               ejaculated by the male

               genital tract]

 

just a kiss you said.

it was march. 2 pots of tea.

walking to your car.

on the east side of providence.

the sky was unremarkable.

 

but your lips aren't yours anymore

are they?

and our past isn't ours anymore, is it?

in this present tense marriage

        [n. 2. the state of being married;

               wedlock

            4. games. the combination of the

               king and queen of the same

               suit, as in pinochle]

 

we both lie in our beds

the dimensions are just different.

that's all.

 

3.02.04 - 3.06.04